Ever have a moment when you pause – or full out stop — and look around your house and marvel at the fact that it’s all yours? 

I had a moment like that today. As I surveyed the first floor of our house and thought – somewhat in wonderment — that this grown-up house with dishes and a dining room table and a phonograph and clean dish towels and furniture is John + mine.  We curated it (an obnoxious phrase but unfortunately, fitting).  Not only that, but we use our pots and pans and dishes and dining room table.  We even listen to records on the weekend while drinking coffee and talking about … well, everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

It looks like a grown-ups house and I forget that’s what we are.  I got my first vaccine shot today (because I know good people not because I was necessarily responsible in any way).  I wished for my mother, or even just my husband — someone to be with me in case it was intimidating or scary or confusing.  I couldn’t find the office when I arrived and walked around the entire complex in the cold wind, my poor feet dragging on the ground as I tried to walk faster than I am able.  I wished for someone, anyone, to be there and be more responsible than me, to hold my hand and guide me.  But I have passed that part of life and know, deep in my soul, that I have to own my self.

The shot wasn’t intimidating.  It felt bizarrely fast and the clinic was disorganized but efficient.  My arm aches and I hope that’s my only side effect.

Lucy is staring at me, wanting her dinner.  Daylight savings sucks sometimes.

Xoxo, g