Moving, almost there!

Moving, moving… Moving. The word incites feelings of anxiety and excitement.

The joys of packing. Categorize everything: pack, store or discard. I could not believe how much stuff got discarded! Some of it became useful. Packing material that my husband had saved from his comic book business was just as useful when packing dishes and glassware. Boxes and paper that filled a room helped us move a houseful of stuff.

Then, we moved out so our renters could move in. We were in limbo. Living in someone else’s house, living out of suitcases, living in between with no wi-fi of our own. Sleeping with a toddler who kicks and turns in her sleep. It was difficult but good. We had time to adjust, to celebrate with friends, to spend time with family, to say goodbye. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

My cherished memory from limbo. I woke before my daughter and went to the living room. She appeared a short time later and her face lit up with joy. She hurried over to me and said, “Mama, when I woke up I was crying onto my pillow.” I asked her why, and she explained, “Because you weren’t there.”

With the help of friends, loading the U-Haul took a mere three hours. Final cuts, not everything we’d packed fit. Some stuff was left behind and will have to make the trip another time.

The next morning…working on little sleep (to the tune of four hours) we hopped into our vehicles and began the long drive.

The next few days are still a blur, snapshots in my memory:

  • Rooms filled with furniture and boxes in no particular order, no place to sit, barely room to walk.
  • Running to Big Lots for a shower curtain because ours was in a box “somewhere.”
  • Collapsing into bed, the only furniture set up at the end of day one.
  • On day two, frantically unpacking the kitchen and maneuvering furniture into place so that we could “live” in our new home.
  • The dog making new friends with the neighbors’ dogs.

Waking on day three after my husband but before my daughter, I remained in bed just a little while longer and smiled. The pressure to hurry, gone. Now we can simply “be” in our new space.

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S.L. Wallace is a natural born storyteller. Daydreams, sweet dreams, nightmares...they all come from the same place, the world of imagination!

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