coming + going

A few months ago, I (Kristen) cut myself off from social media because the time I spent thumbing and scrolling and swiping and liking felt overwhelmingly negative, rather than positive. I deleted my Facebook account, removed the Instagram app from my phone, and tucked my devices away entirely during daylight hours. 

At first, this switch was wildly uncomfortable. I could hardly stand to be disconnected for more than a moment. I would pull out my phone, unlock the screen, swipe once, twice, again, trying to find something to do. I was hungry for the validation I had once gotten so easily. Now, my world was silent. 

Well, not quite silent.

There were the sounds that surrounded me - here, now. Quickly bubbling forward and amplified, two fingers turning the volume knob up, up, up! The sounds held gently in the palms of the present moment. Aspen experimenting with a kazoo beside her toy box. Griffin dropping something hard and plastic on the hardwood in the hallway - clang clang clang! Sticky, thumping footsteps. Smacking lips, newly forming words, "Mama, milk? Milk, mama? Pees? Pees?" One hand rubbing careful circles on his shirt, signing as he speaks. 

All at once, my word collapsed in the most remarkable way. The distant faded, wanting waned, and the tangible became tangible once more.

Ahh. I can breathe again.

With this lapse in media use, I have missed out on a little, and those who have followed us from afar have missed a little, too. But not much. We are still here, slowly moving through each day. We have been selling the very last of some toys and discovering brilliant new ones and stocking the shelves with all sorts of games and puzzles and things that push and pull and spin and zip and fly! The store is absolutely bursting - growing and changing and expanding and transforming daily. It's so exciting to watch it mature around us. 

At home, we have been picking sticky figs from low branches, filling baskets with grapes and greens at the market, trimming flowers, spreading almond butter on toast, spilling paints on the carpet. All the while breathing slowly, noticing and appreciating all of the wild and crazy and beautiful (and so, so messy) things that come with raising small children.

The summer has been sweet (though smokey, and hot, too).  We are grateful, and humbled. We are practicing daily; we are getting better. We are happy that we're here; we are happy that you're here, too.