Anne is braiding Emma’s hair. Cam figured out a new worship song on his guitar. Now he’s playing with his iPod. Cassie’s sleepy. Story’s curled up at my feet.
We hang out a lot these days, the six of us.
“Didn’t you say you saw Papa’s double, his doppelganger?” says Cam.
But seriously. Pause. I need to look this word up on Google.
“Man you’re smart,” I tell Cam.
These last few weeks have been like none other we’ve had as a family. We’re in a small house with only one common living space. There’s no TV. No phone ringing. Not much to do in the evenings. Just miles and miles of us.
Our friend Jim Klaas told us this would happen. He told us he couldn’t guarantee that moving to California would be the best thing for Anne and me but that for our kids and our family, it would be transformative. We’d have to figure things out together. We’d have to lean on each other. It’s happening.
I watched Emma and Cassie playing in our local playground this afternoon after school while I tossed the frisbee for Story. Then they each took one roller blade boot, balancing on one foot, and awkwardly rolled home. I followed, squawking about staying on the sidewalk. It was beautiful.
Cam and I listen to NPR together in the mornings while driving to school. We figure out the world together while squinting into these dazzling sunrises over the mountains.
We had a good family life in Guelph. But now, when there’s only us, and we’re all learning so much about God, it’s extra special.
We miss you back home. But for now, right here, this is good.
Thanks Jim, you were right.