After a long weekend of travel, Jason is finally home.
Sunday night in our house is family night. Even though it's just the two of us, and we spend most of our time together during the week, there's just something about Sunday that's special. Maybe it's a bit reminiscent of growing up and having dinner after church with your family; It must be part of the allure. So yesterday after we got home, I began making dinner and Jason unpacked (okay let's be honest--I unpacked his bag and did his laundry. I really don't think he's capable) and it was one of the best feelings in the world. Please forgive me if this is a bit treacly, but I realized how much I had missed him and I had this overwhelming feeling of thankfulness for our life. Not that it's picture-perfect and mistakes aren't made, but it's us. Flaws and all, it's our little family.
Sunday's finally feel back to normal.
Okay, enough of that. So I read two of my new favorite books this past week. Both are about journeys, and mistakes, and they are a bit outdoorsy and manly. The books are The Road, by Cormac McCarthy and Into the Wild, by John Krakauer. I truly enjoyed both of these books and I can't wait to read more by each of the authors.
That's our apartment behind all of those trees.