As I sit amid the tangle of cardboard boxes and chaos, I keep thinking I will write when things settle down. I will write when I have something to say, something to share, something exciting. Then, I realize this is my life. For better or for worse, right now, this IS it.

Don’t get me wrong. I am overjoyed to be in our new house, never-mind the fact that I know where nothingis yet, never-mind that I have, literally, hundreds of things to do. If I wait until all my ducks are in a row, years may have passed. So, boxes aside, mad dashes to the attorneys aside, crying phone calls to DH aside, I am here.

I’ll spare the details on the gruelling ordeal of selling and buying a house. If you have done it, I doff my hat to you, and vow (plead, pray, hope) never to have to revisit this particular hell. That said, our new digs are worth every tear and wail and wig-out.

Right now, I’m looking out at the violet twilight sky filtering through the broad-leaf trees lining the back of my shady, emerald velvet grassy, lilac infused yard. The birds are singing their even-song, and the quail are bobbing and flittering though my tomato and herb garden. The hard oak floor is cool on my feet, and a slight breeze flutters through the open french doors off the kitchen.

My children are sleeping peacefully upstairs, cooled from breezes through their open windows, and I can hear the soft whir of the fan and my husband snoring as he pretends to watch TV.

My front porch, yes, front porch, is ripe for the sitting, just as soon as I get something to sit on out there, and the full-ish moon is rising on the eastern horizon, where we can trace it’s arced path all night from said front porch.

So here I am. The stresses and difficulty of the last several weeks are really a small price to pay. These problems are really the blessings of excess- how fortunate we are to have such choices.

Tonight, I give thanks.