Rearrange the past.

I look and remember where each piece came from or used to be. The reinventions of space. The years asking whether you'll hold onto something or if you can part ways. The clippings you grew in water turned into plants again.

The Japanese print curtains that were found when I converted a small room in the bungalow into a dining room. The walls became off white and two doors a bright red. I removed the other two doors (the tiniest little room had 4 doors and 2 windows) and our tiny 900 square foot home felt like it had opened up.

The old green antique table that has peeling paint showing a past in turquoise. I didn't buy it the day I saw it. If I don't have a place or a reason I try to avoid impulse thrift shopping. But I kept thinking about it. Days later it sat in my Loft, becoming eventually part of the wall of crates that held dishes and cups and bowls and such.

An old scale that once sat in the boys room next to a found scrap metal collection on a shelf that held most of their memories in books and games and Pokemon cards.

I am a collector of things from the past. Of anything green sprouting from the dirt. Of tiny vintage juice glasses, blue bottles, heavy imperfect mirrors.

Everything that was is now breathing new life, new energy into our urban farmhouse. While we dream of our forever home, with a room for each of our little people to have space that is theirs, this space is the magic of our now. A home where antique Christmas ornaments hang all year because they belong.

Sheepskin. Texture. Lace. Chalkboards. 

A weekly plan for dinners, because this is part of their grounding system, knowing what is coming, having access to as few surprises as possible. The beat of ritual.

Systems for back packs and shoes and pencils and every football and soccer ball are put into place, tested, then usually thought out again. I have to find their flow and their ease. I spent today purging and making new spaces.

Increasing the ease.
Unearthing new beautiful spots.
Watering each plant.

You can feel the air shift when you move, touch, place each thing in a new way. You notice the things that you love, that bring you joy. 

Over the next few days I'll be going into the bedroom, the dining room, the living room filled with couches. Cleaning each corner.

Opening space, sprinkling beauty.

I'm in that space of something new growing inside of me. I can feel it even though its shape hasn't quite taken hold. One of the ways I get it to talk to me is this practice of energy shifting through the cleaning and moving and feeling into the beauty of home.

My past is talking to my spirit and leading her there.

That somewhere, something, somehow place.

What I can feel is the rooting in and lifting up. 

And that is where we will go together.

Somehow. There. In the space of something new.