We’re moving. It’s as simple and as complicated as that one little word. Moving. We sold our house and we’re moving. Something as big as moving shouldn’t really be unexpected, it’s just that we didn’t expect it to happen so fast. We were just going to do a “test run” before the holidays and now we’re moving out. I’m excited and I’m sad. I’m hopeful and I’m nostalgic. I’m giddy and I’m terrified.
We’ve lived in this house for four years. It’s really the only place we’ve called home. (Except for that funny apartment where spent a few weeks when we were first married, before we bought this house.) We got our dog and started our life together, in this house.
Our reasons for moving are many. We have a full list of reasons, four years of considering our options and lots of conversations about a potential move. It makes sense for us right now, but that obviously doesn’t make it less sad. I cried more than a few times on Saturday as we started packing up. Allen came around the corner into the kitchen, casually mentioning he’d start packing up the laundry room first, and I just lost it. (Allen was very sweet and offered to start in a different room.) But other rooms in the house didn’t affect me nearly as much as I thought they would.
So… As if starting a new job wasn’t enough transition for one season, we are packing up, scheduling movers, organizing boxes, and finding a new place to live. And life is good.