Here. Here in this matted brown LayZBoy I sit, Bubba draped over me as my perpetual heating blanket. To describe this rocker as an eyesore would be an understatement. I wanted to get rid of it, yet it still found its way into his room. Now there are two generations of Proffitt boys who have been fed and rocked and loved here. Maybe we’ll keep it after all.
Here. In this house that everyday feels more like a home. People ask us, “How long have you lived here?” and we always chuckle. “You mean the first or the second time? Two years, then we left for a little while, and now we are back.” Not many people can say they’ve lived in the same house twice I guess.
Here. On this street where I can send my four year old out to play with the neighbors and not worry. If she is sassy or poops her pants or it’s time for dinner, they’ll just send her home. No questions asked. Last night her white church shoes were returned so neatly on the front porch. She must have forgotten them when her daddy raised the window to call her home for dinner.
God, thank you for teaching me this summer to find joy in the here. In the now.
Linking up with Lisa Jo for Five Minute Friday.