my chair

Moving. Renovating. Unpacking from one trip while packing for another. Fitting in "one more coffee" with various friends before we're gone.

It's not easy. Louie's really feeling the effects of it all. We found him like this when we woke up this morning.

Poor guy. I can empathize, honestly.

---

And then there's this.

I took this picture last night.

It felt symbolic.

When I was 8 years old, we moved away from the little town in which I had been born. I remember the night my parents told us.

I was sitting sideways in a big armchair,

the chair I loved the most,

where I did all my reading

and dreaming.

I wasn't sure what I thought

about this idea of "moving".

I remember saying, "I don't want to move."

"Why not, sweetie?" Mom asked.

I couldn't find the words.

"Because ... because ... I'm comfortable right here," I said, curled up in my chair, patting the cushion.

They kind of chuckled.

"Honey, we're taking the chair with us," they laughed.

I sighed.

I knew what I meant.

And I knew I hadn't communicated it.

I always remembered that moment.

In the end it was ok. It was good, in fact. Really good.

---

So I took that pic last night.

It's my chair - not the one from when I was a child, obviously - but the one I now love the most.

It's where I read,

and write,

and nap,

and text friends,

and dream.

It's now in what used to be part of our open concept main floor. The wall behind it is only a few days old. On the other side of it is now an almost-finished second bedroom, making the house easier to rent out or sell.

Because we're moving again.

Part of me doesn't want to. I'm comfortable right here, in this house, these friendships, this life ... this chair.

I know the chair's coming with us.

But still....

And then of course, right in the middle of that chair ... Ukraine.

#landilove

Heading there again in a few days.

Can't wait!

I kinda ache a lot these days, even while looking forward to the future.

I really, truly am looking forward to the future.

I'm pretty excited, honestly.

But I kinda ache leaving what's here.

It will be ok. It will be good. Really good, I'm sure.

Ukraine ... well, that will stay the same, somehow. It's part of my chair. It comes with me.

Louie's pretty happy about that.