The Load-Out
My friend Becky and I were discussing the merits of Jackson Browne this weekend, and when we weren't out with friends, (Friday & Saturday night), my wife and I embarked on the monumental task of moving. So, blending the philisophical and physical components of our weekend, I feel the title of this post is quite fitting.
Moving sucks.
Not only from a packing, storing and transporting standpoint, but I know that sooner or later, no matter how loudly we proclaim our joy of occupying our newly constructed home, I will find myself struck with a slight sadness.
This was our first home together. This was where we celebrated Christmas mornings together. This was where my wife completed graduate school. This was the home we brought our new puppy to years ago. This was the deck where my wife and I drank cold beer on lazy summer days and played chess over a bottle of wine on quiet winter nights.
This was the place I came to know a deeper side of my father. This was the place that made me proud to be who I am and to take stock in my accomplishments. This was the place that for the first time in my life, I felt successful.
For the first time, here, we had trick-or-treaters.
We painted, stained, cleaned and caulked... and we took pride in being here. Sure, I may have scratched a floor or nicked a wall here or there, but I can tell you exactly what I was doing when it happened. This was the place where for the first time in my life it meant something when my parents said they were proud of me.
We made long term financial and life plans...we invested in our future, here.
Even the difficult moments that took place here somehow will be remembered and missed. I struggled through being pushed out of a job I loved here. We argued, but grew stronger and closer here. My wife dealt with, and learned to accept her parent's divorce here. And it's all over now. We're moving on.
We've built a beautiful new home and filled it with everything we need. It awaits us, as do untold chapters of new experiences and new memories.
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