on conclusions and a city of yellow

From the space in between the blinds, I see a full moon shining boldly on a dark, clear night, piercing my eyes, eyes that should be sleeping.  It’s early in the morning, a time I’d never be stirring, but the anticipation…  rears it’s head and it’s weary of me pulling in the reigns, it no longer wishes to be tamed or managed at suitable levels of calm.  The anticipation sneaks in during the last nights and steals me from silent sleep, and in the stillness of the dark, exactly 1,000,003 thoughts are swirling and spinning in my head. 

On March 28, 2010, we arrived in Minnesota in a yellow truck, with our one and a half year old son.  Matt had been unemployed for thirteen months and we never could explain why Minnesota, because certainly, it’s nothing we would have picked.  But, there was a small still moment in the decision process, where our Minnesota? was met with undeniable peace.  And that was it.  So there we were.

It was never a long term thing, we always knew.  We never felt that magic that whispers home, except maybe during a sunrise on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior or in moments by Lake Minnetonka when the sun dances across the rippled water and the wind captured and contented my soul. 

Yesterday, for our last little Minneapolis adventure, we took the kids to the Guthrie Theatre to the Amber room,  an observation deck on the ninth floor that tints the whole city in a shade of radiant yellow.  Just to the right stands the place where Matt worked and just to the left, the flour mill ruins and the beautiful warehouse lofts overlooking the river, where we never did live.  (Although, not without help from an internet scammer, who was just dying to rent their unit to us and only needed X amount of dollars in exchange for a key that would certainly appear in our mailbox.) 

Suspended in a yellow box, we paused and experienced the wonder with our kids, as their eyes came alive with excitement and matching amounts of fear.  Cars, bridges, roads, construction cranes, buildings, the river, everything that is normally so big was tiny below their feet.  As their delight and squeals and endless chatter  echoed through the empty room,   I imagine we allowed the wonder and excitement and fear to sink in too. 

As this chapter concludes, for all the beautiful and perfect, the lonely and restless, the struggles and the belonging that never came, for the long days and longer winters,  this season will always be remembered.  Beyond that, it will always be with us, because it has been so crucial and formative to the people we are and the ones we are becoming.  

On March 28, 2013, we will leave Minnesota with that same undeniable peace that is leading us exactly where we are meant to be.

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It’s still dark and the moon still radiant, I’ll just sit in the quiet with the wonder, excitement, fear, and peace for a while before the day begins.

for the next few weeks

There may not be many new paintings or projects shared here for a little while, because sadly, the art supplies have been packed.  And what is even more heartbreaking is that the art supplies are pretty much the ONLY things that have been packed.  Oh my. Oh my.  15 days to go. Oh my. 

So, if at any moment in the next two weeks, you think… I bet Liv could use a caramel macchiato or a cinnamon dolce latte, some more boxes, and some entertainment… You are correct, my friends.  That is exactly what I need.

Oh and one more thing.  This pillow.

{myadobecottage}

PS. Speaking of Paris, I really wish my baby sister would post some pictures from her weekend visit to the city of my dreams.

news.

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Earlier this week, we turned in our thirty day notice for the apartment.  The apartment that we only planned on renting for the extent of our one year lease.  The apartment managed by a company that is anything but professional, respectable, and efficient.  The apartment that we stayed in because the rent was very reasonable for three bedrooms in an old house, oh yes, and the husband lost his job, a year ago.

The apartment with loud neighbors, drafty rooms, no bathtub – just a huge shower,  and cute old fireplaces that suck up way too much heat.  Even though, we are delighted to be moving and even more delighted to sever ties with this company, we’ll probably look back on this time and remember more good than bad.

 

We moved in three weeks before we brought our little boy home from the hospital.  This was our first home as  family of three. We fell in love with him here and fell more in love with each other.  This is the place where he learned to hold his head up, to roll over, to crawl, to walk, to run, to climb and to fall.  This is the home where he learned to laugh, to scream, to say, mama, daddy, bop, ball, bear, book, more, elmo ‘mo,’ hello, what, and we are convinced that one day he said, “Am I your mate?”

 

Here, I learned how to knit, to bake bread, to decorate and redecorate on practically nothing.  I ground coffee beans twice a day, sometimes three  (oh the amounts of coffee we consume). We filled our little home with second furniture from friends, yard sales, and the free section on craigslist.  We covered the walls with lots of art, that we got at a really great price, because conveniently, we make lots of art.

Today, we started packing, which I love because it means a change is coming and I get to give away tons of things, but I also dislike it because, well… why do we have so much stuff?  I’ve almost convinced my husband to get rid of almost everything, doesn’t that sound exciting??

**If you’re interested in learning more about our next step, go here.