The cyclone of change swept us up and has been relentless in its pursuit for about two months now.
Preparations for moving- securing a house in our soon to be new town of Houlton, Maine, the time consuming task of getting our house ready for the market, and the mountain of boxes has kept me from grasping what it all means.
I know, you’re sitting there scratching your head confused by my admission. How can I not be grasping this obvious concept while moving?
I’ve been so consumed with the busyness of moving that I haven’t had a chance for the full weight of reality to sink in.
There’s only so much I can do with the majority of my house underneath drop cloths so I’ve found myself with a bit of down time. As I sit here taking an afternoon coffee break I can’t help but notice the barren state of my living room.
We’re leaving. We’re really leaving. This house, our first home that we owned in almost eighteen years of marriage will soon be someone else’s.
Their memories will be hung on walls that once held ours. New friends will be gathered around the kitchen, but they won’t be mine. Stories will be told. Music will play, but it won’t be my youngest twirling about on the coffee table in her bunny pajamas.
She’ll be dancing on the table in New England……
I won’t miss the desert, but I will miss the parks where we spent Friday afternoons with friends. I’ll miss the streets we strolled and the restaurants we sat in with those we love; sharing a meal and our lives.
We will explore unfamiliar places and create new memories with future friends, but a part of us will always be in this old stucco house in the Southwest.
And today I’m just a little sad to be saying goodbye.