There’s a quiet kind of joy that comes from watching sunlight settle into a new space for the first time. The way it filters through unfamiliar windows, warming the floorboards and painting patterns on the walls, almost as if the house itself is exhaling, stretching, and beginning to know you. That’s how it’s felt here lately. Not just like we moved, but like we arrived.

As the year winds down, I’ve found myself pausing a little more often, letting the quiet moments settle in and remind me just how much life can shift in the span of twelve months. When I look back, it feels like a year made of chapters, each one carrying its own small wonder.

My biggest dream came first, one I thought would never really happen. I finally stood in the Shire. I walked the paths of Hobbiton, breathed in that gentle green world I’ve carried in my imagination for so so long. I got explore New Zealand from top to bottom and saw/experienced so many amazing things. It was the kind of trip that will be with me forever and all others are measured against.

Then we bought a house. Not just any house, but our house. Sooke became home very quickly. (really quite amazing how quickly.) We jumped headfirst into renovations, tearing things apart, building things up, painting, making plans that were ambitious on paper and chaotic in reality. A lot is still unfinished. Some projects are waiting for better timing or, quite honestly, more money, others haven’t even started. Boxes still tower in corners, and some days the place looks like it survived a small storm. But it’s our storm, our chaos, our work in progress. Somehow there’s comfort in that.

It didn’t take long for rhythm to find us either. Mornings feel different, but familiar in their own way, the sound/smell of coffee brewing and the hum of the computer spinning up for the days work. Evenings carry a stillness that we all revel in, where laughter echoes throughout the whole house (because you know, no more downstairs neighbors to worry about!), and life just feels steady. There’s comfort in the small routines that have already rooted themselves for all three of us.

Through it all, we settled into this new space faster than expected. We explored the neighborhood, wandered new paths, tried new restaurants, and learned the sounds of this place. We went all out with Halloween decorations, then turned around and made the house warm and bright for Christmas. Little things, but they stitched this place into something uniquely ours.

I also returned to Nathakra in earnest and focused on writing the second book in the series. (Preview image to the right) I’m a bit behind the timeline I’d hoped for, but the story is growing in ways that excite me. It feels richer, deeper, and will likely be quite a bit longer than the first. Even on the days when progress is slow, I’m grateful to be creating again.

I’ve learned a lot from my first writing experience and I’m applying it to the second. I even plan to return to the first to append some information, retcon a couple other things and add in an entire chapter in a sort of “Revised Edition”. Tolkien himself did it in the past, so why can’t I , right? 😉

And then there’s Xander. Watching him run across the yard, swinging a badminton racket, throwing the whistle football or even raking leaves (which he loves…go ahead kid, rake the whole yard 🤣), it reminds me of why this home matters. He has space to thrive now. We built a fire pit and spent a few evenings under the open sky, we’ve watched the Northern Lights a couple of times and gazed up at the Milky Way. Xander fell in love with the sight of the Milky Way back in New Zealand and so to be able to see it clearly, here at home, makes it all the more special. It is something I clearly remember from my childhood days in Ste-Anne. Moments like that make my heart so happy.

Don’t get me wrong, this year wasn’t perfect. It was messy, busy, sometimes stressful, and often loud. New medical questions have entered the picture, bringing uncertainty and a few hard truths, and there were moments where that weight felt heavy. But there was also clarity. Answers lead to understanding, and understanding leads to a path forward. This year was full. It was real. And it reminded me that even when things change, there is still so much life to live, build, and hold close.

Life feels blessed right now. Not because everything is finished or flawless, but because even in the middle of the mess and uncertainty, I can look around and feel content. We are home. We are happy. We are exactly where we are meant to be.

As I said at the top of this post, I’ve found myself slowing my pace in a way I haven’t in a long time. Autumn has a way of doing that, of asking you to breathe a little deeper and look a little longer. The changing leaves, the cool edge in the air, the quiet scent of wood-burning fireplaces drifting from nearby homes, it all brings back memories of simpler days. There’s something comforting in that nostalgia, the kind that wraps around you like an old blanket.

But with that comfort comes a small ache. A longing for a time that won’t return, for a world that felt gentler and less frantic. It’s a soft sadness, not unwelcome, just a reminder of the years that have passed. Nostalgia seems to hit me harder year after year. It doesn’t overshadow the joy in the life I have now though. If anything, it makes me appreciate it even more.

Lastly, Sarah. My love, my partner, my best friend. Her and I are stronger than ever. The bond we share has been shaped by every challenge, every laugh, every late-night conversation, every choice we’ve made together. This forty-first journey around the Sun has been one remarkable adventure, unexpected at times, overwhelming at others, but always filled with meaning.

As I sit in this house that still smells faintly of cardboard, sawdust, paint, burning candles and yes, the occasional waft from the kitty litter, and as I listen to the quietness of the house and area we live in, I can’t help but feel grateful. For the chaos, for the calm, for the memories behind me and the ones still waiting.

Here, in this place, with these people, life feels full. Life feels right.

Remember, you only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough. Embrace the adventure, cherish the memories, revel in the chaos, and I’ll catch you next time.

Much love,
-Rob❤️