we talked about all the things we see, we crave, we want for our family.
at some point in the journey, i began to call in the ancestors. there was a lot of driving with tears so i would move to the side of the road and just allow the tears to fall. i wanted to let it out, i was happy to let it go, to move out of the way and allow the heaviness to move on. i would call on j's mother, pat, who i didn't get to meet in human form this time around. i called on my grandmother lena, grandmother pat, grandfather shep, grandmother ina who was lovingly called bressy and all of our bloodlines together. i called to ask for help. i called ask for them to guide us to a home that will hold us, contain us, love us. i asked for a home that will nourish us, nurture our needs, insulate this story.
then, we found her.
we had let go of hope so we were living off of a brand new kind of sheer raw unknown fuel. we didn't write it
down on an altar, we didn't fixate on it, we let it go. we gave it to trust. and then after a few days we might have had a little hope left but it was hope in a different font, it wasn't a dark and heavy holding on kind of a hope, it was a new light filled kind of hope.
she is a big yellow craftsman, built in the early 1900's during a time when all of my ancestors were alive and kicking. when i walked in, i knew, they made this happen. it was the fastest walk-thru in history; we didn't look around too much as we were determined to get to the backyard. wow. there it was: the backyard we were craving for o & b. the home of a bacon avocado tree, a valencia orange tree, a play structure with swings and a slide, a pink house for beauty, a barn for a painting studio, a drive way, a front yard with a communal tree swing and so much more. we named her sunny.
we didn't tell o & b till we signed the lease. we picked them up early from school with a wood board love and drove to sunny. b walked thru the house like we had that first time; fast and determined to see the back. she walked out to the yard and started singing 'for the first time in forever.' she continued to twirl and sing and run all over the yard, jumped on the swing, checked out her wood house, opened the little pink wood windows while still singing her own version of the frozen song. o was quiet with a soft spoken 'wow' here and there. i found him wrapped up in the orange tree picking an orange, peeling it and taking big huge bites with juice going everywhere.
we watched them take in this new terrain, to land somewhere, to discover this place we were going to call home. i am not sure there are many words for this kind of thing but it felt pure and so, so goodxxxx
this is part six in a series called home on the blog