Naming the House: The Wave

Every blog has a beginning.

Mine starts here, with a garden that keeps me curious and learning, a house that’s held our stories and a rhythm that always brings me back to center. Each day the deck and greenhouse become a place to come back to, and a way of cultivating both space and spirit.

I’ve lived here since the neighborhood was built. Our first walls went up 28 years ago, and life has unfolded here in slow beautiful waves ever since. This house has held so much, our fresh starts, our start overs, and every moment and memory in between.

Our five kids grew and launched into the world. Some stayed out, while others came back from time to time. We lovingly call that a “boomerang”. The running joke at our house was that one kid would move out carrying his boxes, and put all the others on speed dial. “Hey, the spare room and bath are open if anybody needs it”. Then, like a revolving door, another kid walks in. All are deeply loved and welcome.

We’ve weathered storms, celebrated wins, and through it all, the house remained steady, breathing, alive. It never felt like just a structure to me, it held something more.

So I decided to name it.

Choosing the house’s name wasn’t easy. I tried all kinds of options, some whimsical, some dramatic, and most of them were absolutely wrong.

But I kept waiting, looking and listening. And then, like it always seems to happen, the name came to me. Like a little sprout of an idea.

The Wave.

The more I sat with it, the more it made sense. It wasn’t just a name for the house. It was a name for the rhythm we live by. You know, waves of joy, waves of anticipation, waves of grief.

Our gardens aren’t perfect, and neither are we. But we show up anyway, watering what matters, and clearing what no longer fits.

This is where I reset. Where I listen. Where I begin again.

And again.

And again.