As I reflect on yet another roller coaster of a day, I have to say I miss when times were simpler. When I was 22 and my sister was 10 years my junior, yet I wanted her on my team whenever we played a board game with pop culture trivia. Can’t quite even remember now without the help of google what the games were even called, but they had a DVD that went along with them, there were pizza rolls in the oven and I was drinking with my family on a Friday night. At one point I had Saturday’s off and if any of my friends called on a weekend morning, my dad would tell them “breezy’s still snoozin” and somehow mix up one of my friends names with a child from his own past. My mom would be the life of the party, and my brother would be coming home well after the games were put away and I would listen to him tell his tales of the night to my mom, his fellow night owl and partner in story-time crime. Times like these were the cornerstone of my growing up, and my favorite memories to look back on. They sneak up welcomed and unexpectedly on nights like tonight. My family truly is the makeup of who I am. In hard times and when it’s easy, they’re always there somehow. 
Please say a prayer for the most important woman I know. She needs some extra love and strength and some really good vibes 🙏🏼

My drive home tonight was slow and foggy. The steam rising off the ground made it hard to see, and my glasses were waiting for me on top of the microwave at home. The rain was falling on a slant, and the feeling that a misty, early spring rain brings, engulfed my brain. Tonight it finally hit me. Though we have been living like gypsies (squatters/nomads) for three weeks, our first little starter home in Scotia is officially a closed chapter in our book of life. It’s in the rear view. And as happy as I am to finally and officially be out of Schenectady County, I couldn’t help tonight, but to feel the bitter inside the bittersweet. 

It was the first house I ever lived in with anyone but my parents. I remember the first few weeks feeling so lonely, no roommates, only one dog, and just the busy city streets that surrounded me. I wouldn’t go in the basement after dark, and there were nights I wouldn’t watch TV because I was home alone and commercials for horror movies would scare me half to death. I can count on one hand the amount of times I took a bath there because then tub freaked me out. I also can count the times the fire department came to put out a firepit s’more party (no openfire in scotia GTFO). I won’t miss our nosey neighbor Shirley, or the creepy house on the corner, or the city traffic. But somewhere along all these memories, that house became our home. 

I left there a single girl one January night, and came home engaged to be married. We had birthday parties and even threw one theme party in our new home. We redid the master bedroom… For three months. (Hello 95 year old insulation.) We planted flowers, and even the kind that grow back year after year (perennials?) I mowed a lawn for the first time in my life, and discovered I loved it. Watering my flowers and plants was sometimes more therapeutic than drinking wine. I picked up stoop sitting. Drinking coffee on a quiet front porch, wrapped in a blanket in an old rocking chair on fall mornings became a quick favorite hobby of mine. I had dreams crushed and dreams come true in that house. I left that house as a Costanza, and returned home a week later, bronzed, relaxed, and excited to be Mrs. Phillips. I found out I was pregnant there. I think I peed on 5 pregnancy tests. I had my first set of contractions in my first official bed-with-a-headboard in my newly redone master bedroom, next to my beautiful husband. I left my baby girl Stella for three nights, and brought my baby boy home ever so carefully one mild spring day. (The day Stella became a canine.) It is there I became a mother. I celebrated the last 2 years of my twenties in that house. I learned how to fight clean in that house; that running home to mom and dads was no longer acceptable to end an argument. I learned how to forgive, how to forget, and though Dan may disagree, I do believe I became less stubborn in my time on Glen Avenue. I would find any excuse for a trip to Jumping Jacks, and enjoyed the weekends I had a wedding party booked at Glen Sanders Mansion. I loved the sound of the church bells directly across the street, and the hum of Gabriel’s (and their chocolate muffins) became a comfort to me. 
Now I sit, in a temporary home, on a borrowed couch, holding my baby in my arms, as tears stream down my cheeks. As we wait for our dream home to be ready. As we wait for our new chapter to begin. As I realize that no matter what town we live in, or what color our house is, or how adorable our new wooden fence will be, or how big or small the back yard is, it’s ours. And as of 2:00, March 10th 2016, we are officially homeless, but I’ve never felt more sure of exactly who I belong to, and who belongs to me. Dan, Mav, Stella, Goose – you are my home. You are my open screen door on the first warm spring day, my favorite spot on the patio, a home-garden and hand picked tomato, my worn in cushion on the couch. You’re the familiar smell, the warmth of the windows in the summertime, and the safety of an ADT alarm system. 

It’s been a rough 10 days in my world. Since last Monday I have been tested, and challenged, and have felt at times like I was just suffering through life, to put it bluntly. But I’m here. And I survived it. And it sucks and it was brutal, but it happened and one day I’ll understand why. And you know what has pulled me through? My friends. And my family. And my work family. My husband. My son. The very beats of my strong yet temporarily shattered heart. I like to think I’m humble and that I live with my eyes open and fixed on what’s to come. I don’t dwell and I certainly don’t look behind me in order to live for what I want to manifest for myself and for my future. Just when you think you have life all figured out and planned, God and the universe and the powers that be have a way of letting you know you have absolutely zero access to the map that is your life.  When you are under the impression that specific people are supposed to be the ones who love and support you but then they fall short, it breaks you. It truly does. But it’s within those fault lines where the love shines through. And it’s then that the light at the end of the tunnel presents itself ever so gently to give you hope.

But back to my friends. And my family. And the friends that turned into my family. I wrote this years ago, and it always finds its way back to me just when I need it the most: 

have you ever sat with someone and noticed how beautiful they really are? and thought about the circumstances that have brought you to sit in front of their face? to be lucky enough to see their heart and soul come shining out? to be able to witness how much they’re really worth? there are no coincidences in this life. every avenue we travel down is for a purpose. every person we meet is a blessing, in one form or the next. savor these moments and hold onto these people. they are all a part of God’s great plan.

So I just want to say, thank you. To the people who get me. And love me. And make me exactly who I am. I am in awe that God has placed so many beautiful souls in my little world. With fresh eyes and new ideas, I’m on my way again.