Most people have a love-hate relationship with the end of summer. Usually I feel the same way, but this year is a little different, and I’m missing the old familiar boxes of curriculum arriving for my four kiddos who have grown up and gone on their ways. Those boxes and all the planning that went along with them marked the return of a natural rhythm of rising, learning, playing, eating, cleaning, and retiring early to begin again the following day.
Seasons change, and as sure as the leaves of our majestic maples will soon blaze red and orange, we will grow older, our hair will silver, and our rhythm of life will change. For years, I looked forward both with dread and delight at an empty nest, a kitchen that would be as clean when I returned home as it was when I left. Now that we’re largely there, I do enjoy the quiet, and I especially love the cleanliness in contrast to the years this small farmhouse bulged with teenage inventories of athletic shoes, art projects, and more clothing than any of them needed.
The rhythm of my life and home is changing…
With young adults in my life, the doors revolve with their entrances and exits, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The seasons of my life change swiftly now. The pendulum swings from quiet evenings at home to pandemonium with little feet racing over aged hardwood floors. Sinks and counters lay empty for a time and then bulge with dishes and culinary bounty in short order.
In a few weeks, my daughter and her family will move in with us temporarily, and that forte lifestyle will return with a vengeance. I’ll find socks in hard-to-explain places, Cheerios in every nook and cranny, and sticky fingerprints everywhere. We’ll have three little ones two and under gracing our little farmhouse.
We’re in a crescendo, and that’s a good place to be.
Soon enough, this ebb and flow will lean more to the ebb side of things, and I’ll meander though empty bedrooms, filling them with craft projects from little fingers that visit only time to time. My children’s homes will bustle with activity and mess-making projects; I’ll visit and enjoy the beat of their homes before quietly retreating to the much quieter rhythm of my own, but I plan to enjoy my loud home for as long as I can.
…and that’s the view from My Front Porch.