it is a very strange thing to live in one place in the morning, and live in a different place by evening. to drive behind a truck full of everything you own. to relocate your entire life (and what feels like your entire world). i mean its to strange that i can’t even wrap my mind around it, sitting here as the light fades on our second evening in our new house.
i wrote a post here about how i was feeling about leaving our home of the last two years. and even though i am excited to finally own a home, to finally be putting our money into our own property, and to be putting down some real roots, i still can’t help but feel deep sorrow over leaving our kenmore house.
etta mae went from being a non-walking 13 month old to a sassy and vibrant three year old. she learned to spy birds and made friends with the squirrels (who were all named bushy and squirrel nutkin). eden had her first year of school there. she learned to ride a bike, climb trees and stand up on a tree swing. ivy came home to that house, all sweet and new and full of a a million possibilities. we really grew as a family and so much of who i am as a mother was formed there.
maybe some day soon i will drive by there and i will just feel happy for the time we had. but i am trying to record how i am feeling honestly, so honestly it feels like someone else is moving into our world and wont know a thing about all the precious life we lived there. and that kinda kills me inside. and regardless of how it sounds, i just have to note that i physically feel the loss of our willow oak. i know, it sounds insane, or at least a little extreme. but that tree became our friend; reliable and delightful and dependable and always stretching out to offer us what it had.
i also feel so nostalgic thinking about how those two years are gone, and we won’t ever get to relive them again. i am such a classic reminiscer and knowing that that chapter was written and is now utterly finished feels so final and heart wrenching. it feels sealed off to me now, like i can’t go back and touch it or relive it. like we are too far removed. part of the reason i want to keep my blog up, at least as well as i can, is so that i have little mirrors into the past, little portals i can temporarily go through and relive the things i never want to forget. and i never want to forget these past two years. i never want them to fade at all. i know they will.
we have left somewhere we love, for a place we hope and trust we will come to love, in time.
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