I’m in the kitchen on a Monday evening, making homemade macaroni and cheese for dinner. Mac and cheese is a staple around here—it’s easy, it makes leftovers, and everyone loves it. Sunbeams spread across the cabinet doors, warming and brightening the whole room, reminding me that spring is almost here to stay. Here in northern Indiana, we only get a few nice days scattered throughout March, and today has been one of them. I glance out the window over the sink and see my children playing in the yard. 

A fenced-in backyard wasn’t on our list of “must-haves” when we were house shopping. We wanted three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an attached garage, a convenient location, and maybe a basement. Now, as my 2-year-old and 4-year-old play in the yard while I supervise from the kitchen, I’m thankful we have the fence. 

“Stay where you can see the kitchen window,” I told the children before I came inside to start the macaroni and cheese. “If you can do that and play nicely together, you can stay out here while I make dinner.” 

They accepted the terms. The fence keeps them safely away from the street, and the window over the sink lets me keep an eye on their activities. They get some extra time outside in the sunshine, and I get to make dinner in a quiet house.

My husband and I bought this house back in the summer of 2019. Our realtor met us for a showing just hours after the house was listed, and we knew it would sell fast. We looked around the house and tried to picture ourselves living here, weighing the pros and cons, knowing we would have to make a quick decision. Our realtor helped us write up an offer. Later that night, as we sat on the couch in our apartment, we got the call that our offer was accepted.

I look out the window again and see my daughter dragging the garden hose across the lawn. It’s been a whole four minutes since I told the kids not to play with water today. I cross the kitchen and open the sliding door that leads to the patio. 

“Why is the hose out?” I ask my son. “I said not to play with water.”

“We’re not!” he insists. “I just wanted to see how far she could pull it.”

I remind both children that they’ll have to come inside if either of them turns the hose on. They agree, and I go back to the kitchen to check on the pasta.

Six summers ago, as our realtor showed us around, my husband and I imagined ourselves watching TV in the spacious living room, eating dinner in the kitchen, hanging our shower curtain in the master bathroom. I loved all the windows, the natural light, and the covered patio in the backyard. I hated the brown and yellow paint on the walls. My husband and I both wished the house had a basement, but we liked the space, the location, and that it was in our price range. 

I painted serene blues over the brown and yellow walls. We arranged the living room furniture and set up our bedroom. I filled the kitchen cabinets with our plates and mugs, and the drawers with my small collection of cooking utensils. My husband set up his computer desk. I gazed out the kitchen window, admiring the fact that we had our own backyard, and imagined that someday I would stand in this very spot, watching my children play outside while I made dinner.

My daughter either gives up on the hose or gets bored of dragging it across the yard. She finds a stick and swings it at the trunk of the big maple tree, and soon my son joins his sister. I’m pleasantly surprised to see they’ve honored their promise to leave the hose turned off.

I watch my children jump around in the grass, poking their sticks into the ground. The oven fan hums as pasta boils on the stove behind me. I remember how this moment used to live in my imagination, and I smile as I realize this ordinary evening is a dream come true.

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Simple.”