…Becky and I closed on our house. Five days later, we moved in:
We love our house, and have every intention of staying in it for, well, pretty much forever, or at least until the girls are all grown up. We specifically decided to buy a place that wasn’t a “starter home,” but a house that we can see ourselves in for thirty years — and our budget is, as a result, stretched pretty thin for the next little while, but it’s totally worth it. Especially when I have one of those moments, like I did during a thunderstorm Thursday afternoon, where I feel like I’m getting a very specific glimpse into a long and wonderful future ahead with our kids, in our house, our family’s home.
The story goes like this: I was working from home Thursday, so Becky could go to her afternoon doctor’s appointment in peace, without the girls. Alas, in the middle of naptime, a big thunderstorm rolled by, and a loud crack of thunder woke Loyette up, crying. After trying and failing to get her back to sleep, I decided to take a different approach. We went out onto the porch, sat down in one of our dry, comfy porch chairs, and watched the storm together for ten minutes or so. And as I sat there with her, it struck me that I’m going to be doing this, exactly this, a lot over the next decade-plus, as our girls grow up — and that, just as I have all sorts of fond memories of watching thunderstorms from my front porch in Newington, so Loyette and Loyacita will long remember sitting on our front porch, this front porch, watching the rain and lightning and listening to the thunder with their weather-obsessed daddy. And as I snuggled with my adorable 2-year-old, this put a contended smile on my face.
Life is good.
[Bumped. -ed.]
Such things are, indeed, a major part of why our species has persisted on this planet …
(In spite of the tiny adorable ones turning into teenagers … (grin))
Cool story, Brendan. You almost make having a wife and kids sound enjoyable.
Almost. (Heh.)