Cordani Home #2

We're moving, and I've been packing boxes all day. Scott has been chilling in his Bumbo, or reaching for the mobile above his head--he's a really tranquil packing partner. All these brown boxes, sharpies, and noisy packing tape are making me nostalgic. 

 I've grown a lot in this home.

It was to this home that I brought my son--my first baby. I remember how new and fragile he seemed. As the elevator shot us up from the garage to the eleventh floor, Andrea and I glanced at each other, then the baby, then each other, still in disbelief of the tiny being we had created and the heavy responsibility before us. At home, Andrea set the comparatively huge car-seat down on the wood flooring and I sat on our deep couch, looked down at my baby and carefully studied his foreign-to-me features. Here, in these 600 square feet, Scotty Luca went from being a stranger, to one of the human beings I know most intimately.

It was in this home that I became familiar with city living (the wonderful and the not so wonderful) and, for the first time, developed an appreciation for suburban dwelling. And although I am now grateful for the peace and serenity I find in Ashland or Provo, I adore city life. We shop at the market, go to museums, and eat at local specialty restaurants. Culture and life are rich in this metropolis.

 

It was in this home that I discovered myself, my passions, interests, and style. Leaving Utah really made me questions my choices. Did I really love chevron and the sets of bulky, matching furniture sold at Ashley? Or is that just what Utah homes looked liked and the only decorating option I was familiar with. Down sizing two lives into a studio apartment also made me question what I really loved. That huge craft box I had in Provo, was there space for it? Did I really love sewing or did I sew just because so many women around me did it? Turns out, all that crafting stresses out the A type personality inside me more than it brings me joy. I've trading crafting time for reading time and I'm much happier.

 

In this home, in this city, I decided to be more adventurous in my culinary choices. Toward the beginning of the year, we went out to Ethiopian and I left the restaurant mentally planing what I'd make for dinner at home. It was pretty gross. Ethiopian still isn't my favorite, but harhora annd baklava are real culinary winners. And, I actually like some Asian cuisine. Just ask my Vietnamese roommate from BYU and she'll tell you that's a feat.

This home taught me how to fight better with my husband. Small spaces sure have a way of teaching you to make peace much more quickly and laugh rather than steam.

 In this home Andrea and I had lazy and adventurous Saturdays, the kind of impromptu we probably won't have again until our kids are older. We'd wake up late and, with no yard or housework on the Honey Do List, would go out and discover a new-to-us part of the city. We'd eat out at one of the latest Groupon deals and read books in the evening. It was pretty magical and fairytale-esque. 

It was here I taught myself that I can force myself to fall in love with my life. I moved into this home distraught about leaving Provo and not thrilled with this constant cloud cover. After a January full of big, glassy tears, I accepted the moto "Love Where You Live" and even made a resolution to accept the rain. And it worked. That skill, the ability to love what you are given in life, is a skill I believe I'll use forever.

I've grown a lot in this home. It stretched me and shaped me. Now, onto another.