It's fall and I'm in love with rainbow trees, red tips cascading down to orange and yellow, with the last green holdouts hanging around the bottom. Red leaf-carpets on the ground remind me of cherry blossoms in spring; the two make nice bookends to the equinoxes, I think.
We drive past the fall rainbow trees on our way to pick up their daddy from work. They sit in the backseat, those boys and that girl, and the boys ask endless questions while the girl shrieks. The middle one tells us about his "reflections", which from the sound of it are basically laser beams that come out of his eyes in the dark and help him see. Oldest scoffs, does not, but then he relaxes and joins in and soon they're having laser beam fights with their eyes and now there's even more shrieking.
I've memorized the smells of the 45 minute route from our house to the husband's work. We begin in the sun-warmed car, but the smell of french fries soon takes over as we pass the McDonald's on the corner. A little further down we pass a restaurant that invariably makes me think someone in the backseat has either thrown up or pooped in their pants, which so far has only been the case once; I was amused at that coincidence, having discovered the poop only seconds before passing that particular restaurant. Life is funny sometimes. As we turn off one main road and onto another, the smell of fried chicken takes over. Further down, as we drive over a bridge, the earthy smell of logs floating down the river invariably catches my attention. I always breathe deep here; I love the smell. Soon after we arrive at his work and begin the sensory journey in reverse as we head back home.
We won't be making the drive for much longer though. Early mornings to make the long commute coupled with late nights when he takes transit and long drives when we pick him up have taken their toll. We looked at many (many) houses that were reminiscent of the last time we looked for a place to rent, but we've finally found one that has that perfect trifecta of location, yard, and nice house. We dropped off the security deposit and will now spend the next four weeks purging and packing and moving. Oh my.
It's not perfect, the new place, but it's clean and updated and nice. I'll miss the cozy feeling of carpets beneath my feet, trading them in for all hardwood floors - a bonus to most, but not my cup of tea. Cushy area rugs will be Priority Number One. And our beautiful walls - our bright yellow kitchen, the calming pale blue bedrooms, the lavender bathroom, the hard-to-describe-but-sort-of-teal living room - will become solid peach throughout. I'm grumpy about it and also ashamed of my ungratefulness, that we should have found such a lovely place and yet I'm pouting about paint colours and hardwood floors. I expect we'll make it feel like home in time.
Now it's late and the house is quiet. Our days are so full with so many changes happening at once; I arrive at the children's bedtime feeling jittery and unsettled. Now comes the exhale. Breathe. Relax. Rest. Begin again tomorrow.