In the course of one week Asher turned five, we sold his buggy and he started primary school. It's fair enough to say I'm suffering a wee bit of parental whiplash, though I have to admit: I'm not all that sad.
Read morea year at HOME
It's somewhat ironic that as I write this, we're off the grid.
The home we built here in America - among our friends and family in Kansas City, squared in by coloured pencils on walls - has closed its doors. I hugged my mother in the parking lot of our apartment and said goodbye, again. We are living out of suitcases, many many suitcases, waiting to see where our home will be on the other side.
Read moreEpilogue
Thanksgiving...
An early nap has made him restless. His siblings are asleep, while he clicks his camera and flings his Woody doll. I don't really mind the interruption in routine or the sleeping musical chairs.
It's the price we pay for a weekend with family, songs with my grandmother, games with my cousins, pie for breakfast. I know these moments will soon be gone.
Read moreA Christmas gift guide (for the family on the move)
One question has plagued us for the last two Christmases: what do you give the family, the children, the friends who are about to move?
We've been in a perpetual state of waiting to move for that long and even before that, were always searching out new, small, easy to pack yet meaningful treasures for our wee three.
With that in mind, I'd like to offer...
Read moreCry, till it's out of sight
Photo by Sawyer Bengtson on Unsplash
We have a moving tradition: we cry, till it's out of sight.
Our first home was in Oak Park. Matt moved in first, bringing hand-me-downs and woodworking projects to the brownstone apartment. I sat in the living room, under the bay windows, reading in a green chair. This was the life (as my sentimental mind remembers it): young love in romantic Chicago, stained glass over the mantle, a white cat and an antique bed ensuring - no matter how bad our fight was - we rolled to the middle, every night.
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