My house lost its soul

    Today was the first day I officially began the moving process. Over the weekend, I gave myself permission to not think about all the work I need to do to prepare to move.  I figured I had enough going on with the birthday party and a house showing that I didn't need to add the move to my list of things to do.  This morning was different though. I woke up with purpose. Today I would be the first day of tangible results towards moving. I would make up a list of everything to do so that I could have a visual reminder throughout the week of what needs to be done. I went through the bathroom cabinets and the closet in Best Baby Ever's room. As the day wore on, I started getting the strangest feeling. I ignored it, which wasn't too hard because Miss Firecracker kept asking a million questions about everything. Yet, the feeling was gnawing away at my stomach. Finally after the kids went to bed, I let myself think and feel through everything, and I realized that somehow, sometime during the day, my house stopped feeling like my house. I became a visitor in my own home.  It's like the soul of the house is gone, and now we're just people that happen to be staying in this building for a few more days. I haven't even boxed up anything today. Really, the house hasn't change. I'm the one that's changed. I've switched from living in my home to dissecting it piece by piece, trying to figure out the best way to pack and move everything. 
         I can already tell that I will be crying off and on for the rest of the week at the silliest things. And I'm NOT a crier. However, this week I will cry, and my kids will think I'm crazy.  For instance, I look at the mantel above the fireplace and remember when Mr. Incredible built it. Actually, what I really remember is the look on his face when he showed me his finished project.
     Darn it, now I'm crying! I truly hate crying. It makes me tired. As a side note, I was told by my college roommate that I'm actually a good crier. We've all seen an ugly crier. The face gets all red and splotchy, eyes are swollen, there's wailing, gasping for breath between sobs. Not pretty. But she said I didn't do that.  Miss Firecracker is an excellent crier as well. Not that this matters.
      What I'm really trying to say is that the process of letting go of your life is hard and sad. We've been in Greenville for over 10 years. We've built our lives here, invested in friendships (lost a few along the way as well, but that happens I guess), and raised our children here up to now. I know all the best parks to go to, what stores are the best to shop at, our favorite local restaurants, the backroads that get me almost anywhere on Woodruff Road without ever having to actually get on Woodruff Road. If you live in Greenville, you know how important that last one is!  It's just sad to say goodbye no matter how excited I am about what we're moving to. If you've read anything up to now, you know how excited we all are for this move to happen! The kids and I are ecstatic, and I can't wait for the chance to learn a new city, meet new people. But it's still sad. So just as I gave myself permission over the weekend to not stress about the move, I will give myself permission to feel a little sad over our losses. This week is the ending of a 10 year chapter in our lives, and next week begins a bright new one.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cherish every person because sometimes the moments are awful.

On death...

In case you thought my Facebook complaining was shallow...