That's Not My Kitchen

We sold our first home this summer, and moved a few miles down the road. There are reasons and they're fairly typical, not especially interesting. But LET IT BE KNOWN, we had reasons to go, but we did not have reasons to leave. Unfortunately, I have yet to figure out how to be in two places at one time.

Because we're still in the same area and run the same errands we always have, we pass our old house often. It's a whole new color now! The landscaping is significantly different (and improved), and there's no telling what all is different on the inside.

Even though the homey, buttery kitchen pictured above literally wouldn't exist as-is without Jeff and me (we redid a few things and the kitchen changed dramatically), and it was my space for almost a decade--I can't step foot in it any more.

We're so curious, and want to peek and ask questions, but we don't. It's not our house! DON'T BE WEIRD, we keep reminding ourselves!

Years ago, I had a friendship suddenly go south (that's an understatement--it impoded with gusto), and no matter how, or how hard, I tried to reconcile and make peace, I was met with hostility. After hearing my laments over and over, my mom finally (fed up, probably! ha!) advised me to leave them alone. "Show them you love them by giving them the space they clearly want." It's been over a decade and I still don't like the silence, but I've left it.

When Jeff has changed jobs, he leaves behind his (millions of) REALLY NICE hoodies, polos, and hats for the next coach to wear, and he inherits new clothes from his new job. The logo he's wearing matters a LOT in his line of work.

I'm learning that not all things--even good things, quality things--are meant to be kept.

The leaving behind can hurt. But not all pain indicates danger--pain can be the soul honoring the radiance of what has been.


As always, thank you for this space.