21 August 2017
we packed our sweet treehouse this weekend, sorting and sifting and shuffling our trinkets and treasures. we're moving down the avenue, answering the siren call of walls and bedrooms and a farm table for gathering. the question was never, could we stay here?, but rather: do we want to?
and life beats on and life blossoms forth, and this has been the place where i arrived at twenty two with only a suitcase and where i forged a life in new york city across my twenties and where christopher came to sip toddies and decorate my christmas tree that first winter together and where he
proposed that day in june and where we made our first home and where we...infinite et cetera. (to think of all et cetera contains. to think what these old walls know -- our secrets and our struggles and our joys, as much about our life and our marriage as we.)
this has been the dearest honeymoon house, but it no longer contains the expanse of our days.
and so we close this chapter in our treehouse of dreams, our hearts brimming with gratitude. and so we open another, box by box, a bouquet of marigolds at the bedside, fleet foxes filling our ears, our hearts brimming with wonder.