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James and I sit on the steps of our two-tone home, perpetually stuck in the midst of a DIY project, upgrade or renovation, unfazed by the mismatched army green and purple grey of its walls. Our girls race underwear clad through the grass desperately in need of its first trim of the year. Armed with a hose, they spray and giggle and squeal while their soggy, gangly-limbed dog jumps through its spray, delighting in snapping and chomping at the watery mess. The baby chicks furtively race around their Peck and Play, while Penelope Pig munches fallen apples from autumn’s past nearby. A trail of potting soil leads from our porch to our backyard, with assorted gardening tools in its wake. Fresh, precarious seedlings await their final resting place in our kitchen garden beds, temporarily held in old yogurt containers and seed beds, adapting to the outdoors by day, consuming all surface space our porch has to offer.

I feel the heat of the sun on my skin, soaking up every possible drop of Vitamin D and the ensuing lightened state of mind. We hold hands, a brief moment of connection that is ours during days that are anything but. Comfort and gratitude radiate from my shoulders, releasing all stress and leaving behind only a sense of calm and purpose.

No camera nearby. No phone. No digital apparatus with which to capture this moment of pure contentment and affirmation. This is why we live where we do. This is why we’ve built this family. This place. This home. For untainted moments like this.

My First Born turns five years old this week, and I am stewing in nostalgia and disbelief. Melancholy and reflective, I watch videos of that squawky Mohawk baby with a tangle of blonde hair and and lanky limbs and wiggly teeth by my side. I ache for that sweet innocence and naivety that comes from early parenthood. And am simultaneously inspired and eager to experience the wonder and learning that’s to come. To bear witness to the continued growth of the magnificently kind, thoughtful, creative and sensitive person that she’s proven to be in the unbelievable five years that we’ve shared with her.

Five years. My lifetime as a mother. And yet, it’s difficult to imagine that I ever knew life without her. And equally amazing that there’s so much more to know and learn.