thank you, house

we are leaving this grass and shadow ground in two weeks. 

two years of memories and years 1-3 for Ever, years that i as her mother will remember as some of the most precious of my life and that she will not remember, but will bear, in her heart, her mind. years that shaped her underlying structural beliefs of relationships and the very basic truths of life: am i safe? am i worthwhile? am i happy? am i ok if i am sad? am i capable? yes, yes, yes, yes, yes Everkins. 

this house was an important part of that foundation. the bold, cheerful colonial style shutters, the wide wrap round porch spilling with toys, the bright white kitchen with potted plants, the dogs panting from the back porch to the front yard grass, the big master bedroom with our bed overflowing with pillows and comforters and mommy's computer, desk and quotes and pictures taped to the wall. the bathroom where daddy gave her a bath every night, often joining her to have his hair washed. lola's bedroom, every year with more personality, this year with The Breakfast Club poster hanging over her bed. the boys room, messy and under vacuumed, the place where Ever appears with handfuls of change. the living room: tv time, reading curled into the couch, rolling on the floor with siblings for Family Night. 

thank you, house, for every sheltered night, for every air conditioned summer afternoon, for every crackling fireplace, for the cool pretty wood floor the dogs pressed themselves against. thank you house, for the shadows across the wall, for the blue light at evening tide. thank you house, for the raccoons on the porch i have made friends with, their bandit eyes gleaming, watching me as they eat the dog food. thank you house, for being strong, warm, safe and true. thank you for providing sanctuary.