Well, here we are. Loading day. The girls have spent their last night in this lilting house. Tonight they’ll stay with our dear friends, the friends we moved into this town and this neighborhood to be near. The little ones and I will sleep here one last night on a borrowed air mattress, and tomorrow morning we’ll hit the road.
But that’s tomorrow, and first there’s today. The truck will be here in a couple of hours. We are ready. After all the frenzy of the past week, yesterday brought a bit of a lull; the packers finished early on Monday because we’d done so much of the packing ourselves (and by "ourselves," I mean me and a dozen-odd friends and neighbors, some of whom drove all the way down here from northern Virginia and New Jersey). (Amazing.) So we had yesterday afternoon to spend with some friends we met in our first weeks here but feel like we’ve known our whole lives. Eileen, the mom, is Wonderboy’s godmother, which means I get to keep her forever no matter where we live. Her six boys and two girls chased my gang around the boxes, and we dug up a clump of the mint that I planted from a sprig Eileen gave me when she was moving out of her old house. Her clump had come from her mother, and now she’ll start it at her new house on the other side of the mountain. I had saved some columbine seeds for her from my flower garden this year, too, and I like to think of those blooming in her pretty farmyard next spring.
Anyway. Lots to do this morning. I’ll probably be back to blubber on the keyboard tonight, though, me and my empty house.
Meanwhile, Scott has moved into our rental house in San Diego (where "moved into" means "carried in his bag of clothes and his guitar, which is all he took with him") and is eager for us to get out there and set it lilting.
Pacific Time Is Just So Strange
Actually, It’s the Cauliflower You Have to Watch Out For, the Way They’re Always Darting into the Road
So, Um, How’re Those Closets Coming?
Moving is Like Childbirth, and I Have a Book to Prove It