Moving Day

I sat down on the couch in our new house at the end of the day and I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. I had been unable to sleep last night and I was growing more and more agitated while we moved out of the old place this morning. When I sat down on the couch, amidst all of our boxes of things, and I looked around at this new place where we’ll get to spend our life together, I was happy. I was really, really happy.

This place, with the colors we picked out, with the quiet neighbors and the friendly atmosphere, with the big old rolltop desk that I’m typing this on—it’s brilliant. I couldn’t have asked for anything more. I’m elated to be here. I feel like, in some way, and I’m not sure if you’ll understand what I mean by this, that I have arrived.

We still have the task of unpacking ahead of us and I still don’t have a car until Tuesday or possibly Wednesday, but I don’t care. I already feel different here. There’s no denying that. Something has changed in my outlook just by being in this space, as chaotic as it is right now.

It’s bed time and the time for pondering is over. I need sleep. We, all of us, are tired. The move involved Mom, Dad, Julee, Stef, and I. It took us five hours to move it all out and one and a half hours to move it all in. Sure, we still have to arrange it and put it all away, but that will be a pleasure when you’re arranging it and putting it away in a place you love instead of in a place you hate.

Maybe in five years I’ll feel differently about my new home, but I really doubt it.