on moving

This is it. the big move. the one we've been waiting, wishing, hoping, praying for. I've stayed away from the new house the last couple of days, almost as if it's not real, but more so because doing anything there is preferable to doing what's left to do here. And, I have got to finish here. Tomorrow night, we will spend our first night at the house and monday morning we will wake up in our own home.

tonight, as I pulled the last few things out of the kitchen cabinets, I thought of all the moves I've made in my life. As a kid, I can only remember 2. Then, there was moving back and forth to college. Into my first place and relationship and shortly after, out of both of those. Into my first real independent place, with a friend. It was dumpy and old, but I loved it. Then Sandro moved back from Lewisburg and into that place, where we lived when we got married.

When I was almost 8 months pregnant with Cecilia (on another memorial day weekend) we moved to another apartment-it seemed so big, but with a tiny kitchen. It had its bright spots and we had so much joy there-bringing our first child home, welcoming Sandro's parents (meeting them for the first time), living close to family.

Our next home came only a year later, and bringing us a little independence-off to Delaware on a little adventure just the 3 of us. We grew so much that year, our young family, our young marriage. We dreamed and planned for the future there, in our "most luxurious apartment home in New Castle." Or so the sign said at the entrance. We made a decision there that put us on a course to this very move.

Our next home was less than luxurious, but it was affordable (barely) I went to work and Sandro went to school and work. We spent a year in color-coded scheduling, with me counting down the days till I could be home with cecilia. Sandro finished school and we went to Italy for an amazing month. Later that year, we grieved with Sandro's brother and wife as she lost her sister and we all felt the helplessness of life ending too soon. As is the way with life, sorrow was quickly followed by joy (and a little worry) as we discovered that we would soon be a family of 4.

that year dragged on in the tiny basement apartment. With the two giant rottweilers and the stripper/prostitute upstairs and the domestic violence couple across the hall, there was rarely a dull moment. But soon, Julianna was born and we squeezed her crib into a corner of our bedroom and started looking for a new place to live.

Six years ago today, we saw this place where I am sitting typing for the last time. We have had so much joy here. We've hosted friends and family for holidays, the annual cookie day, birthday parties, movie nights, even the home parties have been fun. We welcomed our son to this home, this boy who completes our family and brings so much light into our lives. Our girls have shared a room since he was born, and this last night neither of them can sleep-both have been down here twice. I wonder if they are uneasy with the idea of their separate spaces.

We've had sadness, too. I remember sitting on the steps and watching as Sandro took the call telling him his father had died. I remember sitting in the same spot, sobbing while talking to him long distance on the day of the funeral, feeling in every fiber of my existence that my husband should not have buried his father without me at his side.

As of tomorrow, I will live somewhere else. I think taking the last 2 weeks to move was good for me, allowing me to ease into the idea of our new home. I wrote our last rent check a month ago, but it didn't sink in; my belongings are slowly disappearing-arriving either at our new house, or finding new owners. Still, it's been slow sinking in. This morning we had coffee and bagels at the new house, but the coffee was in disposable cups and the table was a card table. still, not sinking in.

By Wednesday, I will not be back to this place, maybe then it will sink in...