We've always talked about our someday house, the office lined with shelves where I can write and think and get lost. The guest room Paul has already claimed as a man cave, with his action figures dusted and given far more love than anyone would suspect. The kitchen that is more than a hallway, where our family can eat and learn and grow. Seeing the possibilities was incredible.
The house we liked was number seven, of course. There's always been some significance of that in my family, seven girls, the number seven in addressed and phone numbers, following me around like a memory. And it was perfect. From the ceilings to the ledging over the fire place. We stood there, hand in hand, looking into the white face of our future.
If I look back at the twisted path that brought us to this moment, it's all I can do to keep from falling to my knees. God is so good, impossibly good. A year ago the thought of looking at houses would have brought me to tears. We were living day today, with no hope of somedays. Now, the future is bright. We are more than ourselves, we are more than this moment and the struggles we have gone. We are souls, searching for color in this semi-lit place.
We are human beings, blessed to live in wet perfection of a place, blessed to know what it's like to see the sunrise over dusky mountains, blessed to hold hands in the soft light of lives we have yet to lead.