I pulled one of those last, remaining boxes out of the basement today and got it unpacked. The box was filled with framed pictures–I intentionally brought those pictures up here to this house (rather than leaving them in storage with the majority of our stuff) because I thought it would help our new house feel like home.

But when I started to take out these pictures, I was a little surprised to feel that these pictures were out of place up here.

Don’t get me wrong. I am glad I held onto every one of the framed photographs that made it up here. But having seen these photographs in a very different house now sitting up here in this mountain house seemed to emphasize for me that our my frame of reference has changed a great deal.

So I moved the pictures from one room to the next, from one shelf to another, waiting for them to settle into the right place.

I’m looking at one of those photographs right now–my three children, standing on a snowy trail in Colorado, all smiles. I had this same picture on my desk upstairs in my old house. Now here it is, sitting by my computer on another desk, in another house.

As we used to say when we were kids: same difference.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this one tonight, other than to note that I’m still in transition, still settling, still finding a new frame.