A year ago today, we stood in our living room, looking around awkwardly. We held it together on the outside, but inwardly we wondered what on earth we were going to do.
The wedding was perfect. The honeymoon, glorious. Ten sweet days of celebrating, exploring new territory and relaxing--the only responsibilities we had at the time.
And then...we were "home." But was it really? I didn't have any of my things in your house, and you didn't know what your house was going to look like once I finally got settled. "How is this supposed to work?" we thought. Was marriage supposed to feel this...uncomfortable? Thank God for best friends and helpful articles from people who have been there. People who tell the truth and say, "Yeah, this feels weird, but it's normal. It's ok. I was there, and now I'm here, and it gets a lot better."
Because if I didn't know it got better, and SOON, I might have had a panic attack.
But it did get better. I "nested" as soon as possible, starting with a room I could easily claim as my own: the kitchen. Somehow, that did the trick--it's amazing what putting up a few of your own cookbooks will do.
We opened gifts and displayed some of our things. We unpacked, packed, threw away, organized--all that boring moving stuff. But through all of that, we figured each other out a little more day after day. We asked questions, we talked things through, we felt the awkward pauses and pushed through them.
We celebrated, explored new territory, and, finally, we relaxed.
We developed our routines...at least, for that year. And they were good. It was all good, really--even that difficult day a year ago today.
I took a stroll around our neighborhood tonight and, as I walked up to our front steps, I remembered that feeling I had a year ago of looking at our door and realizing, "This is my door now. This is our house." And that same surge of excitement from 12 months ago rushed over me again, because there is absolutely nowhere else I'd rather be.