Catalpa!


I have been in my house for over seven years now. Which blows my mind more than a little. Life used to change a lot for me… but now that I am “settled” it has taken a different pace.

Every season has echos of the same time last year…and I like that. I like the quiet life. I want to be a person who doesn’t like the quiet life, but that just doesn’t fit me. I like the hard edges worn down, peace reigning the land, weekend mornings ensconsed with my rag-tag family, the tradition of waffles and Phineas and Ferb, sitting on the porch with my husband on a rainy night.

The sense of time folding and repeating itself into traditions is the strongest for me in the spring.

For one week every year the Catalpa tree in my front yard blooms. I anticipate it and every year worry that it won’t actually happen (if one could possibly worry about a thing, I will, I’m on it), but it always does.

The first time I have a strong memory of the Catalpa tree was taking pictures with the band I used to be in. We posed with our instruments on the lawn with the beautiful white carpet of fallen blooms.

The next memory is the year I missed it blooming because DH and I were on our honeymoon. I was frustrated thinking the tree didn’t bloom that year, but it had bloomed – celebrating on its own the new family and marriage in the house.

The next memory is our first year anniversary. We spent the day on the porch, looking at it be purty and getting fairly drunk.

And this year it made its triumphant return. My memory is of sitting on the porch steps, watching the kids and DH play… loving my soft life.

My life feels odd at times – I have extremes of lots of time alone, wonderful, too-short bouts of just me and DH, and crazy moments with spindly, loud, joyous kids.

I have stopped worrying about my life being unfulfilling because it sometimes is choppy and in a way our kids are not our kids – and started making sure I don’t miss a moment – reading for hours, petting Annie when I have the house to myself – strategizing with DH and what to do with the rare evening we have together to go out – watching stupid television with the kids where they laugh and laugh at something and looking up at DH to share a private eye roll. Every day is different from the day before, but with the same beautiful touches as days before.

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