Favorite Places of 2014: Ian’s Bedroom Floor

As I’ve been reflecting on 2014, it occurred to me that so much of what I experienced and learned and loved about this year is tied to the places in which it happened. This week, I’m going to share a bit about my favorite places of 2014. This is the final post in this series.
As I’ve been reflecting on 2014, it occurred to me that so much of what I experienced and learned and loved about this year is tied to the places in which it happened. This week, I’m going to share a bit about my favorite places of 2014. This is the final post in this series.

The carpet in Ian’s room is terrible–it’s the kind of thing women on House Hunters would complain about endlessly. “Well, honey, remember that awful carpet? I’m just not sure it’s the right house for us.”

It’s beige: the most possibly beige beige you can imagine. It’s worn down in some places from over use–in the doorway leading to the hall and right in front of the closet doors. Under the chalkboard wall, there are drips of black paint. It’s neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. It’s just…beige carpet.

Still, it’s been the setting for growth and change and togetherness and love. Ian and I have spent countless Friday mornings and Saturday afternoons on that floor, chock full of the smallest moments I have tucked away in my heart.

I want to remember when I sat in front of his yellow rocking lion, and he leaned all the way forward to give me a kiss.

I want to remember the way he frantically crawled across the floor, over and over again, as fast as he could, to knock down the tower of blocks Evan had built.

I want to remember looking out the window with him when he saw his dad approaching our home through the parking lot, and the way he laughed and yelled and knocked on the glass.

I want to remember falling asleep on the floor while he flipped through books, because why are we awake already when you barely slept?

I want to remember watching him learn to hold up his head, roll over, sit up, crawl, walk and run–all while sitting on his bedroom floor.

Maybe one day, when we are house hunting, I’ll say, “Oh, Evan, the carpet’s just like what used to be on Ian’s bedroom floor.”

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Author: Lindsey Cornett

A Florida girl navigating life in Michigan // learning to trade perfectionism for freedom with an iced coffee in hand

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