Recently my mind has been taken back to our early days as a family here on Stock Gap Road.  I remember how carefully and thoughtfully I put together Evaleigh's nursery, every item shifted dozens of times so they were perched in just the right position.  I remember countless hours of back breaking work with my selfless mother recovering And refurbishing my great grandmothers couch for Evie's nursery while chatting and dreaming about my little Evie and what she would be like.  I remember the day we brought her home from the hospital and how proud I was to show her the small space I had created just for her, even if she slept through the whole tour.  I remember foggy middle of the night feedings rocking back and forth in the old blue recliner while peering through the nursery French doors observing my John sleeping away on our bed in a messy tangle of sheets and blankets.  

My memories here at Stock Gap are rich and run deep: being a young girl running in the yard (many times with no clothes on),  giggling evenings with my sister as young girls, warm homemade cauliflower soup made by my mother during cold months, talks on the porch with my father about goal making and life plans, bringing John here the first time during Christmas of 09' to meet my family for the first time, my first pregnancy while living here the first time again after my parents divorce, bringing my 5 day old son here when we moved back in the second time. And oh so much more.

This is home to me.  It is the place my children know as home. Today Evaleigh told me, out of the blue "Mom, I love our home."  She knows nothing different. 

Sometimes I look around I know that we won't be here forever but to me the library will always be my first baby's nursery, the place where we loved and learned about each other for the first time.  The place where I first cultivated the mother love I feel every day now.  The kitchen will always be the place I learned that Evaleigh doesn't like beans or peanut butter.  It is the place where Avett learned to exert the strength of his little body by carrying whole gallons of milk to me for a drink.  The place where I filled my families bellies, maybe not always of the healthiest food but I will remember that we never went without. The master bedroom will always be mine and johns room,  the place where we conceived our first baby.  The place where we had a tiny Christmas tree just for our selves.  The place where I fell asleep pregnant and watching The Cosby's while John played with my hair or rubbed my feet or back. The place where we talked and talked and talked about the future and what all we hoped it would hold.  And the bathroom just through the double doors was where I nonchalantly took a pregnancy test that changed our whole lives.  The dining room will always be our joy school room. The place where we learned and created and dirty little hands left prints on the windows and sometimes walls.  The place where I couldn't keep Avett from eating the sticky tack off the back of our art work hanging on the windows.  The halls will never just be places to walk or travel from room to room.  They will always be race tracks that my children ran round and round with cars and strollers.  The place where the sweetest sounds of little feet pounded that memory in to my heart.   The living room will always be that in every sense of the word.  The place where we lived and lived good and hard. The place where my husband would sprawl across the floor and toss the children about in the air and tickle them relentlessly only for them to cry out "again!" Or "more!"  The place where my husband and I retired to every night to connect at the end of the long full days.

This house is our house.  It is where we share in life and love and though day in and day out we go through our routines and schedules I know we are living out our future memories. And they are good ones, filled with what I hope I will only recall as magic.


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