“Plant sequoias./ Say that your main crop is the forest/ that you did not plant,/that you will not live to harvest.”
– Wendell Berry
It’s funny perhaps, but I love how our house smells in the summer heat. It has the old-house smell of plaster and floorboards soaked in living. I loved the smell from the moment I set foot inside and knew it could be home. It reminds me of an old house I lived in as a child. It is everything that house could have been.
I woke this morning to commence the next decade of my life. My love lay warm beside me. He kissed me, held me for a moment and went to brew coffee. The children clattered after him. I lay back and smiled in the momentary stillness left behind. So much has happened in a decade – so much received and so much lost. I entered the decade still childishly innocent. I leave it grown. Joys and losses are the foods that nourish adulthood. The joy is sharpened, intensified, known more completely through its antithesis of grief. Perhaps this has been the lesson of my twenties.