Yesterday, my son turned eighteen months old. It has been exactly eighteen months and three days since I have blogged. Things have been, uh, a bit busy but I miss writing and keeping this up.

One thing that's been on my mind lately is the idea of permanence and how it translates to the home. There was a time when I painted my bedroom every three months (sorry, Jack.) I also moved every year in NYC for something like eight years in a row, sometimes more than once within that year. To say I get an itch at times is an understatement; I love change, mixing things up, never feeling too stuck in a routine. Adventurous soul, perhaps.

Then Coley came into our lives, and my perspective shifted. I still love positive change and a fresh perspective, but the idea of creating a space to truly last, our family community, to strive for the warmth and love that makes a pile of bricks mean something has really come to the surface.

To me, the home is a reflection of the soul, and with the crazy, over the top, all-encompassing love only a parent can feel towards a child, I want our home to hold some sense of permanence, building this family to last a lifetime. I know in this incredibly troubling day and age nothing is permanent, there is no guarantee- but to be able to retreat to a space that gives you a sense of peace, that reflects the love you feel, isn't that ultimately what my line of work is all about?