This is the house where I’ve felt the least at home. In the 10 years I’ve been a military spouse, this is our 4th house.
Some of the unsettled feeling is likely because I’m finally getting used to this transitory life. I know we will move again. Why get too attached? Why unpack all the things? (Just this week, I was digging around in a box looking for some jewelry. We’ve been here a little over a year.)
The days are long, but the years are short. It won’t be long before we pack up and move again.
Of course, I know some of this feeling is because I haven’t unpacked everything. A bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, if you will.
But not everything needs to be unpacked. I have some totes and boxes of stuff the kids have outgrown that will stay closed until we (maybe) have another baby. Before kids, we didn’t have quite as many unopened boxes as we do now. Visually, I feel less settled.
Emotionally, it was hard leaving our house in Italy. Not because I particularly loved it, though I did while we were there. But more because it’s the first house our babies knew. Both of our boys started their lives there.
It was hard to leave behind memories of sleepless nights, first steps, the echoing sounds of laughter, and the long, low groans of labor. Most likely, they will not have the same luxury I have of returning to their childhood home.
But these feelings of unsettledness have given me an opportunity to look around. I’m actively looking for ways to make this new house a home. And what I’m finding is that, while this house doesn’t hold our history, something it does have in abundance is magic.
Practice Looking for the Magic
My kids are young, and they are so good at finding magic in everything.
In this house, with its base housing white walls and ugly gray/brown tiles, our family watches for rainbows every evening.
As the sun shines through our backyard and into the kitchen, the light filters through the privacy film I hung up in our first month here. Every evening in the summer, we get bright rainbows on the dining room floor and the stark white garage door. Every evening, our three-year-old points them out in awe.
In the desert, we often drive long stretches of road without much to see. But close to the house, there’s a display of airplanes. Every time we drive by, my oldest says, “Mom, look! Airplanes!” Seeing something so big so close to him is truly amazing.
In this house, everything is cause for celebration and inspection. To my children, nearly anything we might come across in a day is declared either “beautiful” or “perfect”.
Mom’s car is perfect. The toy cars rolling around on the coffee table are perfect. The rocks in the yard are beautiful. The setting sun dancing through the clouds is beautiful. The bird hopping through the yard is perfect.
Everything Is Magic Under the Right Lens
In this house, we have a large, mostly covered front porch. On weekend mornings, when it’s warm enough, my husband and I will venture out to read books and drink coffee. During the day, I take refuge under an umbrella while my kids play.
We have a water table on the front porch. It’s nothing special. I thrifted it months ago, in awe of my $2 find. It’s been painted, and that paint is now flaking. But it serves us just fine.
Playing outside in the water always brings giggles and smiles from the kids. My oldest runs across the patio and, seeing his wet footprints on the concrete, exclaims, “Mom, look! Easter footprints!” (He came up with this after reading the Bluey “Easter” book, where the Easter bunny leaves footprints as the final clue to hidden easter baskets). As they disappear, he finds a puddle to step into and makes more.
In this house, we marvel at the butterflies and bees that congregate on the purple flowers of the bush out front. From the front porch, the kids call out the color of every pickup truck that drives by the house (that toddler life, IYKYK). As often as we can, we stand outside on Tuesdays and Fridays to wave to the garbage man.
In this house, we look for the magic.
Your Invitation to Look for the Magic
Moving, with the military or otherwise, isn’t easy. Each house comes with new things to learn – which light switches turn on which lights, the best place to shop for groceries, and where the other kids hang out. We learn which dishes to put in which kitchen cabinets, where to hang the baby monitor, and the best place for the vacuum.
In time, each house opens itself to us. Gives us a place to learn about ourselves in the safety of its walls and shows us new things about ourselves and the world.
May this be your invitation to take some time today or this week and look for the magic. Whether it be in rainbows, airplanes, or disappearing footprints.
It takes practice, but there’s so much magic to be found, if only we look closely enough.
