crave

I’m craving a house that fits us, not one we fit in to. A messy kitchen and laughter at my table, friends and cards and wine and fires. I’m craving spontaneous road trips and no-reason-at-all late night conversations over dark chocolate, TED video marathons. I crave God as my coffee in the morning, my wine at night. A fulfilling practice. A quiet in my mind. I crave curtains that I didn’t have to pick out or coordinate, the garden we’ll plant as a family, this yard we’ll transform in a few months. I crave the flowers and the birds and the spring air.

Riding our bikes to the farmers market. Bringing May-day baskets to our neighbors. I crave the new traditions of this house, these little wood floor planks and our water spots. I crave knowing each and every one intimately. I crave learning: in a class, in an independent study, over coffee or tea. I crave community. Conversations held offline. Everything less public, but open. And always free. I crave relationships, not status updates. Not status.

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I crave knowing a purpose beyond myself. An extension of my heart. A farmhouse table and a bench for seats. Peonies, poppies, ranunculi’s. In bright pinks! Sherbet oranges! Soft whites. Baby blues … I crave, every day, moments of quiet wonder. Splendor. Painting this life beautiful, especially when it’s messy. Dirty. When I can’t find my socks and I haven’t seen our bedroom floor in a week. I crave laying it down and looking forward.

I crave an orchard of cherry trees, pears and apples. Blueberries, and yellow tomatoes. Fresh eggs, baby bunnies and baskets to carry around. I crave a night under the stars, a tee-pee in our backyard.

Lets grow an economy of
trades. Where worth isn’t
a wallet. Where a meal
is a vacation and the
projects are opportunities.

Let’s build a life worth
more than counting numbers.
Let’s love in the weight of
our arms and tally kisses.

Let’s hold hands,
forever.

Holding hands, last day of school

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