MOVING FORWARD … THE END (KIND OF)

We moved July 3^rd … today is August 16^th and I still feel like we’re living in a really nice AirBnb. I usually find the silverware drawer on the second try now, but I still haven’t found the potato masher or the duster. I really need to rearrange some stuff in my kitchen. My office closet is still a disaster. And I really miss my hot water dispenser, of all things!

Thankfully our pup has adjusted extremely well – I was a bit concerned. Lincoln has been over to spend the night several times, and he’s claimed ownership of a corner of my office closet. Also this:

I think he’s settled in’

I wish I was. I asked Greg the other day how long he thought it would take to feel settled, and he said soon. I hope he’s right. Lots of new routines are needed, from deciphering when the dog REALLY needs to go out, to how not to disturb each other now that we’re all on one level.

Mornings have been the hardest for me, mostly because the dog kennel was in my office – I get up around 4am usually and the second I turned a light on in there she started whining to go out. Peace OVER.

That one is solved now – we moved her into our room, and I’ve got my early mornings back.

I really want to be writing as much as possible for the next few weeks. I finally have some time to refocus on my Chosen project, which feels great since I’ve had to shelve it for most of the year.

Except. I’m having surgery on September 5^th to fix a severed ligament in my (right) thumb. Recovery is about 12 weeks and of course this was not in my plan. (Remember my “Unstoppable” post?! I can’t read it without laughing now … but you know what? Here I am, still standing. I’ll call that a win in this bizarre year.)

And right now? This is not fun. It hurts really bad – have you ever tried to function without a thumb? No? It’s a bit difficult! And during that 12-week recovery I’ll be in a cast or a complicated-looking splint the whole time.

Do any of you remember our (Greg’s and mine) attitude when I was diagnosed with cancer a couple years ago? It was:

Oh! So we’re doing THIS now!

And here I am again, getting ready to do THIS now. I can’t say that I got to this place of calm immediately. In fact I was so mad that it took me a bit to get over it. But mad isn’t a productive emotion for me, and it’s uncomfortable to stay there. So I’d say I’ve been living in a place of resignation, which is better than mad, but not quite the same as acceptance. I’m getting there!

One recent moving story. Last week when I saw Lincoln I’d swear he was taller than the week before, and I thought (and said) that we need to measure him.

And suddenly I realized I’d left him on the wall at the old house. Our homemade growth chart, on the cement wall in the laundry room – where I’d been measuring him for years – gone. I actually cried.

Then I wiped my tears and texted the sweet gal who lives there now and explained that I had a really weird ask, and would she be willing to take a picture of that wall for me? She not only took a picture, but she measured each mark so we could recreate it. And we did.

Is it the same? Definitely not. Is it enough? Yes, yes it is.

There were a LOT of things that made me cry while we were in the throes of packing, and almost all included the grands. There are so many memories from the 18 years we lived there, and when I found their pictures and artwork and card games and so much else, I cried over all of it.

I made a rule for myself early on, though. I could cry for two minutes and then I had to keep going. That was actually quite helpful! I had permission to be sad, but no time to wallow.

So I was surprised when I went to pieces the day we walked away for the last time, and I couldn’t figure out why for a while. As I thought and processed my reaction, I began to get a bird’s eye view of those 18 years. Lexi is 21, Mason is 20, Callie is almost 18, Lincoln is 11. They literally don’t remember us living anywhere else. Our house was a block from theirs, and they spent their childhoods running in and out our back door. So very many wonderful memories! So why the meltdown?

It felt like I was leaving their little selves behind.

Maybe that sounds weird, I don’t know. But it’s the truth – they’ve mostly gone and grown up on us, and that house encapsulated their childhoods at Nini and Papa’s house. It was the best season of my life, hands down – of course I fell apart.

A couple days (and quite a few hugs from Greg) later, I felt much better. Somehow understanding why I was so sad helped me to move forward.

So now we are at the beginning of a grand adventure, while still trying to find some of the pieces of our “old” lives. We will, though, or we won’t, and it will be fine.

That’s it for this time! I hope I can sneak in another post before surgery – I’ll do my best!

Love,

Angie