I started this post so long ago it was almost a different day. I'm getting this in just under the wire.

I'm a little foggy on the details, but somehow, it got to be Thursday, and then, much to my surprise, Thursday got filled up with all sorts of unexpected and almost forgotten appointments and errands and outings.

I'm just getting home now, from a night out (you heard me right...) with a friend, and I just need to take a moment and finish what I started earlier this day.

I walked around my house, which was uncharacteristically empty and quiet for much of the day, and noticed how the objects that fill our home and are filled with so much meaning and usefulness and life when we are all here, seemed to be waiting.

Waiting for kids to throw their dirty clothes in, for someone to fill them with tea. To be sat on for violin practice. To be jumped over, or off of. Fought over. To be played with, and drawn with, and flopped on. To be messed up.

I'm someone who likes my home tidy. Likes things to be orderly.

But today, walking through these empty rooms, and tonight, coming home after everyone was asleep, I looked around this tidy (thank you, sweet Tim) house...and, well. It looks so nice, all pulled together. But it feels so much better, when it's all pulled apart, and in the process of being lived in.

And now to bed. And to start it all over again, tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt