night 31

i have been a nomad for a month now. july 15th was the last night i spent at my old apartment, and here we are, 31 nights later.

perhaps unconsciously to celebrate the occasion, i spent last night away from my current home base {in the wallingford/phinney intersection} at my sister's in order to take portraits of my niece, rose. you can see her there, all sleepy in her baby basket, resting on the bed i share with my mom when i stay there. she's not a baby to cry all night and wake up the household, and i actually enjoy it when she spends the late-night time between feedings in our room. even when she grumbled quietly last night {and probably would have gone back to sleep on her own} it was fun to have my mom pass her over to me for 10 or 15 minutes while i dozed with her on my chest, gently rubbing her back until she conked out again. the rest of the night i wasn't even aware that i was sleeping in a house with a baby.

more than just a convenience {it's a long drive out to covington just for a photo shoot}, i have enjoyed the nights i have stayed at my sister's place. it goes beyond having the baby around and being on babytime where productivity takes the back burner and rose's meals are the only regular thing. being surrounded by family is something i find i am valuing even more than i anticipated, even when it's stressful. between having lived in a different continent as my parents since i left for college and the fact that the last time the 6 of us were together as a family was more than 8 years ago, feeling part of a family unit, a community of people related to each other has been something i've held on to as i navigate this space without a home of my own. finding home in family, or at least savoring the part of me that equates family with home and having a space to return to has been an unexpected gift of this time. additionally, if i had my own place to go home to, i definitely wouldn't have gotten to see my mom and family as much as i have.

i guess family is a good example of a landing-place in my life. a safe, and at the end of the day, loving and caring place to return to no matter how impatient or ill-humored we can be with each other. as much as i can nit-pick the imperfections of my family, i really do count myself lucky to have a mother and brother i can sit and weep with {both that first scary night after moving out and then on sunday, processing a lot surrounding a self-abusive habit i can't seem to kick}, a sister who is able to host me so often despite how much she has going on, and family abroad i am still in regular contact with.

i want to wrap this all up a little more tidily--make the through-line thought and image that i want to impart here a little clearer--but my eyes are literally bleary and it's time to go to bed.

currently writing from sozoo neighborhood, seattle.