Moving out of the Lovenest is bringing up so many emotions. I want to take the last three years and put them in a slideshow and trap those perfect images into a little snowglobe. Reminds me of a book I just read, The Lovely Bones -

Inside the snow globe on my father’s desk, there was a penguin wearing a red-and-white-stripe scarf. When I was little my father would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe. He would turn it over, -letting all the snow collect on the top, then quickly invert it. The two of us watched the snow fall gently around the penguin. The penguin was alone in there, I thought, and I worried for him. When I told my father this, he said, ‘Don’t worry, Susie. He has a nice life. He’s trapped in a perfect world.’

Okay, it doesn’t follow exactly, but I want to be on the outside looking into this perfect world we had, where we somehow stayed toasty during Cleveland winters and lived in peaceful chaos for three blissful years. But as we leave and conflict brews over this ratty little nest, I feel like someone smashed the glass. The peace is ruined, and it floods into our lives to come in our new home.

I know it sounds silly, all this over a temporary home. But to me, the Lovenest represents so much more. It was where I became a woman, a wife, a lawyer. Where I learned to cook fine foods and manage a household. Where Joe and I became one person together. We put up our very first Christmas tree here, becoming a family in and of ourselves.

We will soon start anew, moving into a stage of life where both gifts and expectations are raised. “To whom much is given, much is to be expected.” Am I a big enough woman to accept and envelope these expectations? I feel wholly inadequate to take on a house, a job, maybe a dog or even someday, a family. Yet I want all these things. And how did I feel qualified to handle a marriage, a household, law school .. at the age of 21? What gave me the audacity? And after becoming a lawyer of all things, where did my audacity go? Despite Joe’s constant encouragement and support, I have let guilt and shame over stupid mistakes (I stepped in the newly-laid grout today, things like this) destroy any confidence I might have once had in myself. I try to take on new things, and then I cower back for fear of failure. Then I grow disappointed in myself, and worried that I’m disappointing Joe, who so fervently believes in me. What an ugly cycle. I feel like a little airplane that can’t get off the ground. So much potential, yet so much fear. When will I become airborne?