Moving Day Jitters
Moving day is Friday. Our family has been a whirlwind of packing (and unpacking – if we don’t seal the boxes right away the kids think that’s an open invitation to pull out the contents) and cleaning and sneezing (dusty!) and begging friends for help.
Thank God for friends.
Meanwhile, across the country, my Nana and Grampa are moving from the house they’ve owned since the 1950′s – which they probably bought for $30 – to an apartment by the beach. I had promised to fly back there and help pack, but since we are moving at the same time, I was unable to keep that promise. I have so many memories from that house – playing touch football with my aunts and uncles, barfing after the Christmas Eve parties, watching cartoons on Saturday morning after sleeping over, family picnics in the backyard, walking my aunt’s dog Toby by the creek before the creek was filled in and a new development was built, shooting marbles on the old green rug in the hallway with my cousins, holiday dinners in the dining room, my Grampa’s nasty old recliner, the wood paneling in the extra bathroom, the scary damp basement….ah, memories. Take mine, multiply that number by 1,000, and that’s how many memories that house must hold.
Transition time. It’s scary, but necessary.