“I was chopping vegetables, stirring a pot, bopping around the kitchen as I like to do, ALONE. I peeked out the window over my kitchen sink to catch a look at the rest of the crew playing in the fading light of the day. Mike was at the grill, a steady stream of smoke surrounding him, the good kind of smoke, the kind that smells like summer evenings. One was in a hammock, book in hand, barefeet dangling over the sides. Two were on a blanket in the grass, wrestling, probably one wrong move from screaming, but for now strong belly giggles could be heard.
This is it, I thought. We have arrived.
To warmer days, yes. Definitely that. But also here to the life that we dreamed of, sort of, without really knowing it. A life that is full and exhausting but also beautiful and special. A life with our very own backyard, weeds and all. A life with three little ones that push us to collapse into bed at the end of the day but also leave us smiling with joy as we peek out the kitchen window.”
I stumbled upon a micro essay jotted down into my notes from last May. I made a habit this year of using my phone as a portable journal. When words trickle through my brain like the tiniest of waterfalls I have learned to build a funnel. Collect them all before they drift into the desserts of my thoughts and dry up with the sun. Often this means a quick typing of letters in between pot stirring or shoe tying, in the 10 minutes before naptime is up or the 5 minutes while they are distracted by a snack. Sometimes they become essays. And other times they are forgotten. Today, I found myself scrolling through these mini essays and stumbled upon one I didn’t want to lose.
The words struck me, not because we have arrived to warmer days—those are in fact long gone—but because I realized there is so much to measure about growth from simply looking at my kitchen window. I wanted to capture this growth in image, and in words too of course. Always words.
Inspired by another writer, Molly Flinkman who shares her #8thofthemonthspot posts, I am starting a series of my own. But I’m choosing the 14th because it’s a number I can remember more than others. With a quick grab of my view from my kitchen window, I hope to watch the seasons grow along with my family, and me too of course.
Feel free time come along with me. Choose a view. Choose a date. Track your progress. Even if it’s just a few notes you jot down in your phone. You never know what they might inspire.