leaning into what might be next

I’m terrified of an empty house, the echo through the halls and the dust underneath the beds. Where once there were toddlers afoot and babies galore – soon all of that will be no more.

I used to grow a garden, before that I grew babies.

My patch babies

And so much has changed that when I look around it’s hard to recognize myself most days. Where am I, really? Even the chairs we sit on are different, the house we live in is new, the babies I grew are growing and yet we still make the same mess. Each one of us trying a new color, a new canvas, for the same masterpiece.


I often wonder what’s next. All I’ve known my entire life is how to be with babies. I played house, made baby-books for my teddy bears; I was practicing how to be a mom before I was even out of diapers.

But we’ve long since passed the baby stage, we don’t even own a stroller anymore. And the tiny infant humans who I couldn’t wait to have are a distant memory. A lovely, sky gazing, best-thing-I-did-with-my-life, memory.



And it changed me. In ways I’m just now discovering … and I’m leaning into what’s next because of the happy soil we came from – we’re finally going to start to bloom.


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