well, today was a very eventful day.
my folks watched the kiddo’s all day so Jason and I could get what was left finished!
finished.
a word that, lately, seems to have lost it’s definition.
just when I’ve finished one thing, two or three more pop up beside me,
behind me,
in front of me,
all around me!
and even after spending the entire day over at the old place, we still have to go back tomorrow!
again, un–finished!
all that’s left to do is clean out the refrigerator, sweep the garage and then haul a truckload of things to Goodwill.
after that, we get to deal with the walk-through with the landlord and the passing over of the keys.
the keys.
the symbol of the past 3 years of our family’s life. all the memories and milestones forged into one small piece of metal.
and we have to hand it over to someone else. as if it were no big deal.
the whole time I spent cleaning the place, I thought of different tiny little moments that happened in each room that I went into.
in the kitchen.
baking cookies with the kids. all three of them teetering on one chair on their tippie-toes.
the kids helping me unload the dishwasher.
their bedroom.
the small 8×8 space where they were crammed together. where I tucked them in at night. where I said them their prayers and kissed their foreheads.
where I banished them to, when they were getting on my very last nerve.
the bathroom.
where the kids took their communion bath. brushed their teeth. played in the toilet. played in the sink.
and then there’s the master bedroom. where my husband and I could finally get together and compare notes for the day. with out interruption. talk about things that don’t involve Dora the Explorer or how cool mud is!
I only cried a couple times while cleaning the house. I figure it’s practice.
for tomorrow.
when we pass on our symbol.
2 responses to “passing the symbol…”
I cried more than a few tears when we said good-bye to our first home in Medford. It was a bittersweet day, leaving the place where we had built so many memories and welcomed our first child together.
But trust me, after you live a few weeks in the new house with room! to! move! it will get easier 🙂
That’s so bittersweet. I do that and we aren’t even moving. There’s just something about children that makes you so wistful about them. Maybe it’s because they are growing in and out of things so quickly and it all seems to leave you a little breathless, happy, and sad.
Good luck with everything.