My husband and I are preparing to sell our first home. The one we bought together as man & wife and the one in which 2 of our 3 babies took their first steps and celebrated Christmases and birthdays. It's a good house. I love it, but that's because I know it. The trick is getting someone else to see the same value in it.
And so we re-painted the rooms, pruned the bushes out front, threw in a couple new appliances to make it look even more spectacular. Then we took another look around, with everything all cleaned up. With fresh eyes we tried to see what the others would see when they looked at the thing that meant so much to us.
This week has been rough. I feel like there's a better word for it, a more eloquent person could probably call it to mind. But, I don't know, for me it was just rough. Two black men died at the hands of police officers and a lot of people had a lot to say. They had their words together, probably half-prepared because it seems to be happening more regularly now. Those smart, well-spoken people had the right words to say to express the pain and frustration that's bubbling just beneath the surface around us. Not me though. Mostly I just cried.
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