By Tara Hanratty 
We live on an old street with perfectly manicured lawns, beautiful gardens, and freshly painted shutters that match the coloured brick on the exterior.
But not at our house. Bicycles line the driveway. Balls are scattered around the lawn. The colourful images that take up our sidewalk were drawn proudly for those who pass by. The garden sits with a pile of weeds half-picked, as an urgent game of catch was promised earlier in the day. There are dents in the garage door from games of street hockey. Swings hang from the maple tree, and a tiny kitchen filled with small dishes lines the edge of the driveway.
The front window is stained with the prints of little hands and sticky fingers. Dust dances in the sunbeams that shine through the glass. Inside, toy trains are scattered across the floors. A cold coffee is forgotten in the morning rush. The baseboards frame the room with paint that has been chipped away. Vibrant colours mark the wall from crayon marks and a smudge of sticky jelly. A project stopped mid-stretch collects dust, its time will come.
Don’t mistake this for a mess; it is a life unfolding. Comfort dwells in the chaos. A home that breathes. Each imperfection tells a story of little hearts that gather here. Our story.
One day, the marks will fade from the walls. The LEGOs will be stored away in a closet, collecting dust. The window panes will reflect the sun’s beams with a cleaner grace. The weeds once trampled by tiny feet will be pulled away.
When our time comes, we will yearn for muddy footprints. An abandoned toy. A proudly painted rainbow taped to a bare wall. The quiet hum will feel loud and still.
For now, perfect can wait. We’re choosing moments over the mess. Chaos over a perfectly ordered life. Another bedtime story over scrubbing the walls. I remind myself that one day, calm will come. But today it’s not our time. Today we make memories they will call childhood and we will forever hold in our hearts.
Originally published on the author’s Instagram page
by Amy Weatherly 
by Ashley Moore 
