Dust.

I walked into Aria’s nursery the other day and ran my fingers along her crib. As I lifted my hand, I was mortified to find dust covering my fingertips. It was just so symbolic and physical evidence that a tiny life doesn’t occupy this space. Her room is so still that dust gathers there.

My first instinct told me to grab a wash cloth and start cleaning but I quickly realized that was futile. Even after all the cleaning, her room would remain equally empty and the dust would gather yet again. Was I going to come in every week with a feather duster? Who was I even cleaning it for?

So I grabbed a few sheets and towels we don’t use and draped them over the furniture, car seats, and stroller. I didn’t want everything to collect layer upon layer of dust but this prevented me from needing to clean up regularly.

And as I stood back and saw everything covered in mismatched towels and bed sheets, I immediately wanted to take it all down. It didn’t look like Aria’s room anymore.

I just stood there and thought, now what?

It seems like I’m asking myself that question several times a day, but I’ve yet to find the right answer.

Soon, we will be moving to a different house and then we’ll have to take it all apart and put her room into boxes. These are are the last few months we will be able to see her nursery. It would be pointless to put the crib together at our new house, because the reality is that Aria will never need it. It’s heartbreaking but it’s the honest truth.

So, maybe I’ll uncover everything and put it back to the way it was. I’ll clean it occasionally, not for Aria but for us, because once her room is packed up into boxes it isn’t coming back. I suppose we ought to cherish it while it’s here.

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