It’s 12:15 am and me falling asleep is about as likely as …..,(insert your own creative “unlikely”scenario in the comments. The winner might receive a prize.)
In less than 12 hours, the Weights will be headed northbound to start a new life as Virginia* residents.**
(Well, technically, we have to drive south to I-95 first. And then we head north, And before heading south, we’ll probably have to turn around at least twice to pick up a nearly forgotten pet, go to the bathroom again and then pick up a nearly forgotten kid or return overdue library books or take care of outstanding arrest warrants or go pee again. Maybe we should book the Hampton Inn for one more night just in case we never make it out of the city limits.)
Speaking of the Hamton Inn, James has made himself right at home. Yes, that is his Hobbs shirt.
Today was difficult. Seeing our home…once bursting with life, busy-ness and laughter…awkwardly stripped naked, like a dog that just got shaved for the summer.
As I checked each room, closet, nook and cranny*** to make sure the movers got everything, I ran across Jack’s 2007 hand turkey carefully scrawled inside the closet under the stairs. I don’t do tears. I do sarcasm instead because it cuts down on mascara expenses. But sometimes tears are like bladder incontinence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them.
So, I sat alone in the closet-under-the-stairs of the house that I love…. in the town that I love…and cried.
After about 10 minutes, Jack crawled in next to me, compared his (now much larger) hand to his old artwork, put his arms around me and cried his own tears.
After a few more minutes…
ME: I don’t want to leave this house.
JACK: I don’t want to leave this closet.
ME: Let’s just stay right here.
ME: what’s that smell?
JACK: I’ve got gas.
ME: time to get going.
I sincerely hope the new owners and every owner after them have a son named Andrew because these letters are like Super Glued and welded and cemented onto the walls. They’re gonna outlast cockroaches after the apocalypse. I must admit, though, they were always a helpful reminder of what room I was in.
Im glad James copied all our heights onto a new two-by-four to take to our new house. Otherwise I’d’ve had to rip out the door frame.
On a serious note, pray for us. This is hard. I love Dublin. My kids are happy here. We have a great life. But sometimes God nudges you out of your comfort zone because he’s got plans for you. Okay, off to bed now.
*Yes, I’ll be a resident there, but don’t expect me to ever say “Virginia is for lovers” because that’s about the stupidest state tourism tagline I’ve ever heard. Makes it sound like people there either never leave the bedroom or are always doing indecent things to each other in public…things that I don’t want to have to explain to my eight-year-old. I don’t want to imagine what their petting zoos are like. And, gosh, we might not be able to leave the house on Wednesdays.
**yes, tomorrow our home sale is final and we are leaving Dublin, but we’ll be back in 10 days for a month of boys’ baseball.
***what exactly is a cranny? I’ve never heard of one by itself. Seems like they only exist as a sidekick to nooks. I guess a cranny is like Batman’s Robin, Starsky’s Hutch and gin’s tonic.