...from my old digs, that is.
As I write this, my office is empty - void of everything that made it my favorite room in our townhouse. The walls are bare, the bookshelves are empty, the stereo is silent and awaiting the disconnection of its wires. Boxes are stacked all around me and the only things on my desk are my printer, my laptop, and the cables that make using them possible. They will be disconnected and packed up in the next 24 hours.
My home is now simply a house. There is very little left to box up or take down. It echoes in the rooms with the softest of whispers. The linen closet is empty. The kitchen cabinets are just about empty. My entire life is packed in cardboard, silently awaiting the next chapter to begin.
I'm happy about leaving, but I'm sad about it as well. This house holds a lot of memories from the weeks following my wedding, to bringing home our first child (almost seven years ago), to bringing our son home from the hospital (two years ago.) I remember how much fun it was decorating the nursery (and how different it all looks now, after years of wear and tear and my daughter realizing that borders can be taken off if she really put her mind to it.) I remember exactly where in the living room the Girl took her first steps. Ironically enough, it was the same spot where her brother would take his first steps almost five years later.
If I close my eyes, I can still see my dog Bear, lying curled up in the sun by the sliding glass door. Bear's been gone almost five years, but yet I still see him there, nose tucked into his bushy tail, dreaming of chasing rabbits or squirrels. I remember the summer my husband and I got married - we moved in three weeks before our wedding and had no furniture until Labor Day weekend.
But now it's all going to fade into memory. I have great hopes that, when we put it on the market, a young couple just starting out will be interested in it. I like the corny notion of that - a couple just beginning their life together. This house has seen a lot of laughter and a lot of love and I hope that energy remains within these walls - that whoever calls this place home next can feel it and it brings the same happiness that my family has enjoyed these last ten and a half years.
On Saturday, the movers will arrive to stow my memories and our possessions into a truck to be taken to our new home. It will be weird at first, but I have great hope that we will be as happy in the new house as we've been in this one.
Life is about endings, and it is also about new beginnings and I'm looking forward to what awaits us as we begin this new chapter.
So, for the last time from the townhouse -