We arrive at our new apartment and we feel a lot better after a long stressful day of travel. We have a spacious apartment with gorgeous hardwood floors, built-ins, and beautiful large windows with a view of the mountains and the city. There are three bedrooms, a living room, family room, kitchen, formal dining room, an office area, plus every room has its own bathroom. There is also a live-in maid’s quarters with its own bathroom. We have five bathrooms for our family of three (one of whom isn’t even potty trained.). This feels like a joke to me having grown up in a family of seven with only one and a half bathrooms.
Gray goes to the grocery store a few blocks away while I unpack suitcases and Ingrid explores her new home. I have so many closets, shelves, and drawers I don’t even know how to choose where to put my one suitcase worth of clothes.
Gray returns with a few things, and for dinner I make Italian chicken with spaghetti and sauce. I ask him if he remembers me making this same meal three years ago when we moved to Columbus, Ohio. We sat on our kitchen floor because we didn’t have a table or chairs yet.
I’m feeling tired but grateful. Grateful to be “home”. Grateful I don’t have to travel with my baby again for a while. Grateful for spaghetti and a new tradition.