“I will not rest ’til I lay down my head. I’m gonna go — in the house of stone and light. I shall not cry for the blind man I leave behind, when I go — in the house of stone and light.” ~Martin Page
As I watch the very real progress on our house from across the field, I can finally see a light at the end of our tunnel. It won’t be that much longer until we can say goodbye to this nomadic existence, to this house that cages as much as it houses. I do understand that even with the progress made, though, it will still be at least a few more months until we can truly call it home.
But it means I no longer feel stuck on pause here. I can look out the window anytime I’m feeling like there’s no hope and I can find that hope in the machines, in the scaffolding, in the… activity happening in waves. So when I’m hiding out in this back room hoping no one yells my name for whatever I’ve done wrong this time, sometimes I’m also humming “Kumbaya” and biding my time.
It’s been easier here in these summer months because the girls get to go outside and swim. With the windows open as well it just makes this place so much more open. I feel like I’m always just a step away from being in that magical place called “elsewhere.” We’ve also been able to get out more as a family, to the Water Safari, to Philadelphia, and just out for the day to Syracuse or Albany. Not being cooped up in this house makes all the difference.
And yes, winter is coming. I know it will be here before I know it, but with the approach of winter comes the rise of the house. We will be in our own place before winter arrives. I have faith in that. It is what sustains me through these last few months being boarders. And once we’re in I never want to leave.
Sam
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