How to explain the nostalgia that I feel for this place?
I had to come and pick up my dry cleaning today. And it seemed sort of random and odd to go back to Curry street where the boys came on-board to gestate and where Lily was last happy and alive with us. Yet here I am.
Nostalgic for a time when my life was laid out in front of me with hopefulness and expectation. It's amazing to me the time of pregnancy. I am still in awe of the safety my children had while inside of me But more than that, the contentedness, the total, absolute peace and contentedness that I felt, living in that condo, looking out at this view, every single evening at the end of my work. How at peace I felt walking to work or taking the street car, such a short distance. Being near the river. And saying every morning, with the boys in my belly, and the dog at my side, Good morning mommy's island. Good morning Ross Island Bridge. Good morning sunshine.
It's hard to be nostalgic when that time brought me the best, most amazing gifts, ever. And even as I am nostalgic for that place and that time; for the time with C, those beautiful, beautiful moments when I shared my pregnancy with the man, who is not the father of my children, but who is my heart. All of that nostalgia, and still I cannot wait. I cannot wait, with much fervor and excitement, to go home. To be home* with my children. Right now. As soon as I can.
*January 5, 2018 addendum: 10 weeks before the boys were born I had to move from this condo, in the sky, on the west side, to a old Portland style bungalow on the east side, where they came home from the hospital and where we've happily made home, the only home they've known the past, going on, almost three years.
I'm Kimberly. Single mother by choice. Soon to be wife. Holder of space. Maker of place. Mom. Mama. Mommy. Mitch. These are my thoughts, reflections, ideas and random observations about raising twin sons.
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