The year we met
Our second year
Our third year together
I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with a good story from this year. I could go obvious and tell about buying our house, but to me that's boring. I have lots of good memories from this year, but for some reason none are calling my name to write about. The first one's, and a couple after, have almost been whispered to me, you know? While they may not be the 'obvious' stories, they are for me. Except for 2003. I could tell you about how we spent our first anniversary (downtown), or how we got our first dog (she didn't work out real well). I could tell about sledding down our hill at Thanksgiving for the first time, or the busted soda bottles we found on our side porch after we finished sledding (what a mess!!), or how K's brother and I made peace that year. I could laugh with you about our first Halloween in the house, at the end of a dead end street, so we parked the truck in the street and handed out from the bed of the truck (didn't go over real well, it was creepy to people - we didn't do it again!)
But none of those spoke to me. But after talking it through, I know what does. I'll tell you about a moment we had one evening not long after we moved into said first house. We signed all the paperwork for the purchase and got the keys on my Birthday, April 14. We actually kept our apartment for an extra month and did a LOT of work to the house before we moved in. I couldn't tell you what day this moment happened, or even if it was before or after we moved in. All I know is that we were exhausted from a long day and walked outside to relax a little.
Our backyard was magnificent. We were set on an acre of land, at the end of a dead end street. Our neighbors were close, but not THAT close. Our backyard butted up to a creek, and our side yard to some woods. No street lights. Just far enough from the city that you could see a lot of stars, although not as many as really being in the country. The house sat atop a hill so that you looked down into the backyard.
We walked outside and initially just kinda hung out in the side yard. At some point K turned towards the backyard and I did not. The thing I remember best was the low whistle followed by a quiet 'wow'. It was one of those moments that you know something amazing has just happened. I turned around to ask him what, but the question died on my lips as I stared in wonderment at this paradise that was our backyard. Everywhere you looked there were hundreds, thousands, of teeny tiny flashing lights. Jumping out of the darkness, first here, then there. No matter where you looked your eyes caught shadows from the trees and blinking lights. Lightening bugs.
I grew up with lightening bugs, knowing the power that they could hold on a young mind. I never realized the power they could have over an adult until I saw them, really saw them, for the first time. In that quiet night, surrounded by inky blackness that was only taken away by these magnificent creatures. Talking to each other across our yard, through the woods, and allowing us to share in their dance.
I don't know how long we stood there, staring, without saying a word. At some point in time I moved closer to K and he wrapped his arms around me and we watched. We really watched. When we went back inside we felt rejuvenated instead of the bone tired from working full time, going to school, and moving into a new home that needed work.
Every year after that, we spent evenings out there, enjoying our little light show. Sometimes it started in the spring, sometimes closer to summer, but in the middle of summer was always the best. If there is one thing I miss about that house (except maybe for our custom kitchen that we built ourselves), it is those little lightening bugs. I wished away the winters
Even though the house is rented now, it is still OURS. Next year, I will make it out there, if only for one night, to enjoy the beauty of God's creation.