There's nothing that makes me more nostalgic than a crisp fall afternoon. So much that has made me what I am happened when the leaves were golden and the air hadn't quite turned frigid.
One year ago today we moved into our house. I remember warmth and sunshine, sweeping the wood floors, my belly too big to do much else. It was only a few weeks later that I was pacing those same floors, counting the minutes between contractions, and then the middle of the night trip to the hospital. There are so many bright, beautiful memories following. And also the really hard, feeling-like-a-failure ones too. I've learned both are to be expected, whether it's your first baby or fifth. I've also learned that dwelling on the bright ones is a lot better for your psyche. Now my baby is toddling around, learning to point to what she wants, and throw what she doesn't. I've decided it's all too much. How can I not just cry like a baby at how beautiful life is and how fast it is racing by?
This is my segue post to the Germany post. I just had to get these thoughts out and cry a little before I got into the rest.
Thanks.
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