Mindfulness: The Move


Home blindness exists. It's when you become so accustomed to the specific ways your house is, that you forget you ever hoped for a fix. Like how when you moved in, it took three weeks of waking startled before you got used to the air vent rattling on in the middle of the night; or how the third drawer in your kitchen sticks open 1/4 of an inch; or how you have to push your bedroom door closed in the summer because it swells with the rising heat. It's how we become comfortable in our living quarters and what gives our homes character. It's why we become nostalgic when a move is on the horizon.

Alex & I moved in together a couple of weeks ago. While I'll miss a handful of things at my old place like the courtyard I exited into each morning before hitting the street, the giant trees that hunched over to one side as if they were frozen like that during a storm, and the 5-minute walk to the natural spring pool, I'm excited to find new reasons to feel at home. There's already the beautiful, bright light streaming in from windows and rousing us with the morning sun before we're ready to start the day; the kitchen, overflowing with dinnerware and cooking utensils and roommates making good food and messier countertops; the cozy love seat in the living room welcoming you to hunker down and read. The neighborhood is filled with sounds like kids squealing in yards playing tag, the metro rail ding-dinging at the crossing, and live music lingering off into the night air at the coffee shop nearby.

We're excited to fill this home with memories. 

Home is where you hear love within the stillness.
— Raquel Franco