I Just Knew We Were Home

The bed seemed bigger. It wasn't. It was still the same queen size that we had in our old room in our old house, but still, it felt bigger as I laid there on our first night in our new house. Our first house. We've been married almost six years, and the whole time until now we had been living in the house I grew up in, which we rented from my Mom.

It might have felt bigger because the room itself is bigger than our last bedroom. It's hard to say though because the floor was covered with boxes so it certainly didn't feel too big.. until I looked up. The white popcorn ceiling looked just massive with the soft glow of our essential oil diffuser on the floor; the colours fading in and out, the scent making it feel like home already.

Either way, something was bigger and even in my exhausted state I suspected it was more than square feet. All I had done all day long was lift heavy things, and so the absence of weight in my soul was tangible. It felt like hope. There is still so much hard work to be done. A change of address can't cure everything, but it may just serve the purpose of shaking me out of that place that felt like my feet were firmly planted in drying cement.

Then I heard it; not as loud as I'm used to, but still there it was- the unmistakable sound of a train whistle.  As I listened to it I could hear Chris' breathing change to the deep ins and outs that sleep brings, and I just knew we were home.