It's funny what you notice when you're moving. Like how life oozes.
It floods your home and fills in the corners and crevices of space with tiny moments, milestones and memories.
Trying to pack that life and those memories into boxes so you can take them somewhere else is the tricky part. Because some things can't be moved.
Like lemonade stands,
...and halloween parties...
...family dinners with cousins and sleepover parties....
Even the hard stuff made this house our home. Like learning how to be a single mom to three kids after my divorce; rushing Ben to the ER for the very first time; or even nursing our sick guinea pig Leo back to health. This house has held us, all of us, and our lives here as we lived them. Good times and bad times fill every nook and cranny. Our memories are here. And I want to keep them.
But memories can't be boxed up. Like the venue of your wedding day, the backdrop of your memories never changes.
You can't move your memories to a new location. Only remember where it all took place. And I will definitely remember what took place here...
How my boyfriend taught my kids to ride bikes...
...Taking my oldest daughter go to her first school dance; the many, MANY birthday parties we had here (...and sneaking leftover birthday cake out of the freezer after the kids went to bed...)
All of this life. All of these memories. Inside these temporary walls. Permanent. Enduring. But immovable.
We can't sweep them up, we can't wrap them in bubble wrap, and they don't fit into our enormous wardrobe boxes.
Puddles and patches of our life linger in the corners of this house. They can't be packed up...and they certainly can't be moved.
But now we'll have a new home. An empty vessel for us to fill - hopefully with more good than bad. And although we can't decorate our new place with the memories and reminders of what makes us a family, I look forward to oozing out of our unpacked boxes...and all over our new home.
