31 weeks: nostalgia

I don't know if it's my pregnancy getting into this last stretch 

and an impending move on the horizon thereafter, or hormones, or a combination of the above...

but holy cow, the nostalgia levels in my life have been unreal.
I went to grandma's house last week, and after a good chat I just asked if I could go upstairs.

The house my parents live in now wasn't built while I was at home,
so Grandma and Grandpa's house is it. It was finished the year I was born
and it just feels like early school mornings,
and sleeping upstairs in the pink room, and legos in the attic on holidays. 

All of the good hide-and-go-seek spots, and all the good books and puzzles,
and the magical closet under the stairs.

My parents always left us at Grandma's house when they went on trips,
and they took at minimum one long trip together per year.
I remember thinking that things just went slower at Grandma's house.
Nobody was ever in a rush, and it was always so quiet.
It still feels like that.

I think of sourdough pancakes in the morning and ice cream at night,
and begging to jump in the pool before summer [a feat that ended in a shock to the system and blue lips]
and sleeping upstairs with Jess and wearing out the threat of the big bad bear,
because we never could seem to stop talking and giggling.

It's the perfect mix of timeless and old fashioned classic and peaceful,
and I hope it never changes and someday my baby can experience it too.