In our tiny home lies a door.
A door that closed metaphorically and physically last Friday.
A door that I am not ready to open just yet.
It is so hard to remember that just one year ago ( to be exact) we were anxiously awaiting for “the call”
1 year ago the door that is now closed was open and in that room was a perfectly set up nursery that we could not wait to fill with a baby and memories we would one day recall.
Each day since Friday I have passed by the nursery and its closed door. In a house so cozy, its impossible to avoid.
Sometimes, I imagine that the door is closed because of a sleeping child. In reality, its not helping the emotions and our boys never slept that long.
I am not sure why I am so scared to open the door and allow myself to grieve. Its different this time. Perhaps I know that the smells, untouched toys, and memories made will all come rushing towards me the second I enter that room. The rush of emotions seem to scary to tackle right now.
A part of me wants to push forward and prepare for our future, while the other part of me is not quite ready to forget.
Maybe for a little longer, I will leave the memories, smells and untouched toys behind that closed door, just for a while more. After all, its one less room to clean 🙂