Almost.
My new home is phenomenal. High ceilings. And old tenement building. A secret garden outside my window. Original hard wood floors. Adorable little kitchen primarily used for baking. Big windows. A piano. Fabulous girls to share with.
And my bed. Oh my gosh, my bed. I wish I could invite everyone I know to just come and snuggle and cuddle and relish the experience. (I mean that in a truly pure and wholesome manner - unexpected, as that may seem)
I'm feeling a little held. Not held up or held under. Just held. Balancing almost. Just about to cross totally over into all this new. Yet I feel ever so slightly like I'm mourning. In my head I have this feeling of 'old' friends and 'new' friends. All the 'new' I'm meeting are exciting and interesting and full of potential. Oh how I miss my 'old'. I don't know how they became 'old' as if they've gone down in grade, and they haven't. If anything I'm hanging on more. Wishing for them. Praying for them. Thrilled to hear from them and disheartened when the response doesn't come. But they've become 'new' in their world. In the TV show of their lives, going on wherever it is that they are, that I was only ever a reoccurring character on, is in it's own new season.
Sometimes you look back at that first season and think it just doesn't get any better. Sometimes you are so thrilled that the next season came along because it was so much more awesome than the one before.
So I'm held. And I'm holding on.
Exciting, isn't it?
New shows are great, but most people love those awesome reruns you get late at night.
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