Restoration

Today, we start work on our house. It is something I have resisted for eleven years. When we moved in, I could not believe my great fortune. I saw it first in pictures sitting across the country as we planned our move. It was fairly unassuming but I just knew, even then, it would be the perfect home to cocoon our dreams. It was out of reach and the timing was wrong but, eventually, the stars aligned and we scraped together every cent we could to stretch and make it ours. I didn’t even see the things many would have changed right away. All I saw was home. Perfection. And that is all I see to this day.

But, time goes by and the years bring wear and tear. Things start to break down. As with our bodies, there is no fighting that we must sometimes restore. So, after all this time, as the cabinet doors hang from their hinges, the shower and sinks leak, we have to light our stove with a match and our refrigerator swings from off to on and back, ice melting and freezing again in the balance, I made peace with the idea of loving restoration. Compassionately rejuvenating our home to nest us for the next many decades we hope are to come.

But, that peace has not been without disturbance. Many times on the journey, through the months we have planned and made decisions big and small, I have pulled back and resisted. I am happy with what is. In fact, I know with my whole being that I am blessed with more than I could ever have asked for. Technical imperfection doesn’t matter to me. I see the house as a whole. And it holds my everything. How could I not adore every little part of it? And my own questioning was reflected in the tender grief of my child who began to brim with tears at the idea of changing anything in our sacred space. All of our hearts are breaking a little.

Yesterday was the Fourth of July. The birthday of our country and a day of rebirth of sorts for us too. Instead of parades and a long day in the sun, we pulled together and prepared ourselves for restoration and all that was to come. It was hard work but there was something profoundly magical in that shared experience. Emptying shelves and cabinets, we danced with moments from each of the eleven years we have lived and loved here. There were even glimpses of the many years before in our tiny studio in New York City. Champagne mustard from a roadside gourmet grocer in Kennebunkport on that Labor Day weekend we drove up the eastern seaboard. Best by 2008. My coffee mugs from the East Village dollar store we couldn’t bear to part with. The pacifier with the little stuffed giraffe attached that my sweet baby wouldn’t put down. The backup supply of diaper cream we never got around to using. Material things, yet also sacred artifacts. Where is the divide? I am not one who lauds the value of material things. Yet, I have a treasure trove of trinkets that represent moments I will never get back and yearn to hold near.

In a way, this house has become a sacred artifact too. Every nook, every cranny, filled with memories. Laughter. Tears. Hopes. Fears. Holidays. Everydays. When I think of a home, I think of a safe place to rest. To shed the layers and the burdens that the outside world places upon you and just be. Be in your truth. Be in your knowing. Be with the ones that you cherish. So I will think of this as loving restoration. Not making changes from a place of lacking. It is too easy in this world to focus on what you don’t have. No matter the blessings bestowed to you, there is always more out of reach. But, there is so much in reach. So much right there before you. Abundant and beautiful. That is where my focus lies and I will love that beautiful abundance into its next stage of evolution.

As I went through each room, each cabinet, letting go of what I no longer needed, I was filled with all that I’ve had. Filled with gratitude for the life I have lived and all of the memories. As I prepared to tear down in order to rebuild, I gave thanks for all that has surrounded me and held me up. I reflected on what’s truly important in this life. I want to be sure my child grows up understanding that too. Which requires that my partner and I stay fiercely focused on it ourselves. So, we calibrated as a family, setting our intention and vowing not to let this work open the door to something we do out of scarcity or trying to keep up. As we centered ourselves in enoughness, my child turned to me, wide eyed, calmly confident and said, “Mommy, everything you need is right here.”