In less than two weeks, a renter will be moving into the farmhouse. OUR house. The place where my son went from little blob of baby jelly to walking, talking, thinking small person, the place where I started my business, learned how to can veggies and make jam, the place where we buried my furry best friend…I don’t know if I can handle this. It seemed like we needed, more than anything else, to get out of there. Townshend was a very lonely town for me…Crispin always gone and no neighbors on the same page or even reading the same book as I…driving, always driving to go somewhere else, anywhere else. And now I miss everything about it, the great old barn and my gigantic studio with lime green walls…even the slate floor that broke every time we walked across it and the traffic and the lumpy bumpy backyard. Especially now that we are living with another family (who are awesome, btw), I miss quiet mornings, just the three of us. It only ever happened on the weekends, but I ache for those mornings. I know I felt so trapped there, but it’s hard to remember that right now. I just wish I knew if we’ve made the right decision. I wish I felt confident that things are going to be better for us because we’ve made this decision. I wish I wasn’t up at 1AM typing this through a sea of tears, but I cannot seem to let myself come to a place of acceptance. What’s done is done and there is no going back, so somehow I need to find a way to shelve this and think about the Spring and fixing up the cabin…get excited about it all somehow. There are seeds to order and fresh snow in the morning. So many things to look forward to in the coming months if I can just let this go. 

Happier things in the morning.
I have photos to share of the goods that went West for Stitches.

My boy said "I love you SO much" today. Then he said, "Mama, you’re hugging me too hard." 


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