Day Two: Bookish Roots
Let me start off by confessing that it seems I can't recite Goodnight Moon from memory after all. I tried to give Bruiser his literary moment before bed tonight, but the sun had already set and the lamp in his room has not been "all there" since the move and turning on the overhead light when reading to a supposedly drowsy baby would be a travesty. And anyway, I flubbed a few lines. It happens. Confession over.
That aside was less off topic than you would suppose. Today, the kids and I tackled yet another milestone of moving. We went and got library cards. Because when you haven't made friends yet, you need a few books to fill the silence.
I'm keeping today short and simple, just about books in this time of life. I thought I'd tell you that I have officially reached the goal I set for myself with every move: there are books in every room.
There's a basket of recipe books in the kitchen (is it cheating to count that?) and at least a handful in every bathroom, including the half bath--so if you take a really long time in there when you come visit, you have the less embarrassing excuse of "I really got sucked into your Indonesian Bible!" Of course there are books in each bedroom and a couple decorative piles in the spare room to entertain our guests.
Really, books are the best form of decoration. Other people know how to hang curtains or layer throw pillows. I know how to stack books.
The stacking part is extra important these days because one of our bookshelves died in the move. Could I expect anything else from a Walmart bookshelf? They always desert you in your hour of need.
Anyway, what does this have to do with transition, you ask?
Putting down roots takes time. Making friends that are not ink and paper requires multiple encounters and a lot of effort. Making a home is more than unpacking boxes and spreading your stuff around a house; the house must be filled with memories and laughter and the smell of coffee and fresh baked bread. Finding your place in community, whether that be your city, your neighborhood, or your church, takes risk and adventure and vulnerability.
So going to the library for a library card was putting down one tiny wavering root to hold me in place over the next few months. Making plans with the kids to go back to the playground by the lagoon next week: another root. Finding places in my home for the things that matter (in my case, books) is rooting me here too.
And yes, sometimes I've wondered if it wouldn't be easier to be unrooted these next fifteen months, to enjoy the Man and the kids and the ocean and not worry so much about friends and library cards. But you know what doesn't happen without roots? Growth.
So I'm putting down roots by putting in for a library card, putting out books to enjoy, and putting together plans for the future.
That aside was less off topic than you would suppose. Today, the kids and I tackled yet another milestone of moving. We went and got library cards. Because when you haven't made friends yet, you need a few books to fill the silence.
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| Our haul for the day. |
I'm keeping today short and simple, just about books in this time of life. I thought I'd tell you that I have officially reached the goal I set for myself with every move: there are books in every room.
There's a basket of recipe books in the kitchen (is it cheating to count that?) and at least a handful in every bathroom, including the half bath--so if you take a really long time in there when you come visit, you have the less embarrassing excuse of "I really got sucked into your Indonesian Bible!" Of course there are books in each bedroom and a couple decorative piles in the spare room to entertain our guests.
Really, books are the best form of decoration. Other people know how to hang curtains or layer throw pillows. I know how to stack books.
The stacking part is extra important these days because one of our bookshelves died in the move. Could I expect anything else from a Walmart bookshelf? They always desert you in your hour of need.
 |
| Unfortunately, it seems that Bee has a strong aversion to libraries. She starts crying the second we walk through the door. Every time. But this picture is proof that the dislike is not rooted in bibliophobia. |
Anyway, what does this have to do with transition, you ask?
Putting down roots takes time. Making friends that are not ink and paper requires multiple encounters and a lot of effort. Making a home is more than unpacking boxes and spreading your stuff around a house; the house must be filled with memories and laughter and the smell of coffee and fresh baked bread. Finding your place in community, whether that be your city, your neighborhood, or your church, takes risk and adventure and vulnerability.
So going to the library for a library card was putting down one tiny wavering root to hold me in place over the next few months. Making plans with the kids to go back to the playground by the lagoon next week: another root. Finding places in my home for the things that matter (in my case, books) is rooting me here too.
And yes, sometimes I've wondered if it wouldn't be easier to be unrooted these next fifteen months, to enjoy the Man and the kids and the ocean and not worry so much about friends and library cards. But you know what doesn't happen without roots? Growth.
So I'm putting down roots by putting in for a library card, putting out books to enjoy, and putting together plans for the future.
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| Find the rest of the series here! |
