Tall trees

The house is silent, except for the intermittent heat clicking on and off. I think it's 30-something degrees outside.  I'm sitting alone drinking a cup of joe. And as I look out the large picture window, I think I may be on vacation. 

The trees are so, so, so tall. I can see the blue sky peaking around the branches with teeny tiny green buds.  This purple flower tree (I wish I were better about identifying trees!) is painted in front of the tall trees in the distance.  

The plentiful arrangement of tall trees, the almost-bare branches, the silent house, the space in time for noticing--this stuff happens on cabin vacations.  But I'm not on vacation! I'm sitting in my living room. 

Saying goodbye

This is our last night sleeping in this house that we have loved for 2-1/2 years.  Luke was in diapers when we arrived, and John was 3. We have made beautiful memories in this house, in our yard here, and in our neighborhood. I'm sad to say goodbye.  

We have been saying goodbyes all week, and the hardest ones seem to be coming last.  Yesterday we said goodbye to two boys with whom John and Luke spent almost 2 years riding bikes around town.  Today I said goodbye to a friend who I immediately liked the day we met, and we've gotten closer ever since.  Tomorrow we say goodbye to the boys' school and our special friends with whom  we have made so many memories and grown so much over the past couple of years.  Friday are the two hardest goodbyes. My heart hurts even thinking about it.