A blurry snapshot of my almost-settled office space.
A kitchen with countertops I thought I'd dream of for ages rather than haveand fresh-baked chocolate chip banana bread, because having a beautiful kitchen makes me want to cook.
The improbable progress a week made in our settling-in, cherry floors, and the daily work of a pup checking the perimeters of his new home.
This is home and I still cannot make full sense of the fact that it is ours and we live here and we are this lucky.
Sometimes the internal struggle to reconcile some of the things I want to do with my life--matter in a way that blesses others' lives, to connect with students who are different from me, whose circumstances haven't been privileged the way mine have been/are, who might look at me and see only the trappings of the life I still cannot believe is mine, rather than the person who wants to see them succeed in their own way, to celebrate who they are and help them achieve their dreams--and the beauty and safety and security of this place I call home overwhelms me.
Then I look around, and realize that although I don't need this incredible space in order to have the strength and peace of mind to do all those things I want to do with my life, I do need to let myself be at peace with all these blessings. Because letting your home be a place that brings you joy and respite means that you are even more able to be the person you want to be in the lives of students.
And there you have a few run-on sentences and fragments that tell the journey of the first week in our first home and the attitude with which I approach my twenty-fifth birthday this week.