I started a painting last night that felt like a narrative of what my life is like right now.

We’re three years deep into Optometry school. It feels like Weston gets busier and busier each semester; practicing during after hours, studying for tests, going to events, and working in the clinic. I learned a long time ago not to expect him home for dinner very much. I get to cook for him 2 or 3 nights a week if I’m lucky.

Mostly it’s just me, preparing some adult food for one, plus two little kid meals. (The other night I fed the girls cereal for dinner, and Abby remembered to thank me for making dinner, like she always does!)

I started on this painting after putting the girls to bed, knowing that Weston would be studying until at least 10:30pm or so. Immediately I felt like I was painting my life. The sweet little house is us; our world, our domestic little bubble. The woods is everything that calls us outside and keeps us out of the house, and therefore, apart.

Sometimes I fear that as Weston gets involved in these larger, more affluent circles, our humble little family will feel more and more out of place.

So this painting is about my inner plea to all my family members: Please promise you’ll be home for dinner.