Man - I would be the first to say that our identity should not be found in our "things". However, when I pull out the paintings (expressions) from our community in Boston, when I see the collection of our books and literature that shaped and formed us, when I see our mugs, our couches, our rugs, the kids toys - I suddenly feel that I can be me, or that we can be us, and only now truly offer something to Franklinton, to Landing Place, to our family, because we now, finally, have our home to offer to them. I am currently listening to the "Garden State" soundtrack, which I haven't listened to since we lived at ENC (where it was overplayed at the bookstore). I don't think I could have enjoyed it, until yesterday or today.

Also, I really appreciate seeing how much paint actually ended up on our furniture. It really makes me smile.

And the only other time I grew my beard out to it's current length (one whole year) was during our final year in Boston. I don't think I will trim it back this time.

I feel that a real weight has been lifted - and that we can now invite our second son into the world, into our world.

It doesn't feel like our life in Boston has been left in New England anymore, but that it has now been re-opened, re-established, here in the Mid-West, in Columbus.

That is Fuckin' HUGE.