The Cedar House, a cat named Harely and bursting at the seams

This is our Cedar House (a house with Cedar Siding).
Wait, no, that's not our house!
This house is actually in California ;)

Life is good here.

Mondays are a little tough. That's when Mr. Hall absconds to the Cedar House. He took the wee Pancake with him this week. She will be sleeping in a sleeping bag. There are no beds left there. No TV, no cable. Just one tiny laptop that is broken half the time. It is an empty house that she will, most likely, see for the last time. Last time I was there was, most likely, my last time.

That weekend was fun. Sad and fantastic at the same time. Funny thing though. That Sunday, Mr. Hall and I took separate cars to our favorite breakfast spot. On the way, I stopped at a few places and to take some photos. Then I kept stopping and took more photos. Then I realized, with each stop I started lingering. Then Mr. Hall called my cell phone. He had gotten to restaurant a half hour ago. "Where are you?", He asked.



I couldn't really answer because I was too choked up. I was standing in front of the best slide in all of Cedartown, in the best park too. I was petting the cat from one of the nearby houses. Her name is Harley and is a fuzzy orange tabby. She is always at the park.

All of the kids that come here love to pet Harley. My kids loved petting her. That cat loved every kid who loved her. And here I was, without the kids, saying goodbye to Harley. I gently scratched behind her ears and rubbed under the Harley Davidson Collar. My eyes were all blurry with wet tears.



Best park ever. Even came with a cat for the kids to love on.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

I have lived in Cedartown, in the Cedar House, for the entire breadth of my young motherhood. We moved in when I was eight months pregnant with Pancake. Brought my dog, Henry, into that house. He ran all over the place in our back yard.

Started labor (both times) in that house. I painted fluffy clouds and Winnie the Pooh characters on the nursery walls. Each of my kids learned how to walk in that house. Each kid had their own room, decorated with their art from school.

Each room is filled with a these buoyant memories, stuffed floor to ceiling with big, fat overblown balloons. 7 years of memories, eight years of love coating the walls, soaking into the carpet. That house, it's filled with our love. Our family love.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

Let's turn this ship upright shall we?

Let me make this simple.



This love is not ending. It is a bit fractured right now, but it’s still thriving.

And let me say this. Mr. Hall comes here on weekends. On Mondays, he gets up at 5.30 to make the 2 hour drive back. But not today, today he lingered. We all woke up at seven am. We are tired, sore and sunburned from such a wonderful weekend.

And while I write about clicking my heels three times, he is doing the job of seven men. All manner of drywall, carpet, rewiring, trim refinishing, all of it going on at a furious pace. All of this happening in an empty house. Without his wife and kids.

But this week he has Pancake. And more understanding from his wife. A few more days, a few more weeks, all the measurements of time are small now. We are on the edge of being back together. And then the Cedar house will be filled by another family's love. Just like we took over for the previous family.

And then our next house, oh lordy, lordy, it won't know what hit it when we bust through the doors. Our love may very well burst the seams.