Packing It Up

Just when I thought I was ready for Scotland, the movers came. 


They knocked on our door, inoccently introduced themselves, and then wreaked havoc upon my life. 


Within an hour, I was having trouble finding things I still needed.  These people were packing machines. I realized quickly that I should have set up a designated area of items that would be "off limits" for the movers....things like tea bags, my phone charger, and a few extra pair of underpants.  By the end of the day, I was opening empty drawers and seriously stressing.  Twice I had to have them open taped boxes. 

The first day was a complete shock, so the second day wasn't nearly as bad.  They came in and wrapped up every piece of furniture we owned.  On the third day, they loaded up a huge semi, and by two o'clock, that was it.  The house was empty.  Just like that.

David was at work and the girls were with my parents, so walking through the house for the last time was strange.  Once I confirmed that everything was out, I signed off, and the found myself standing in the kitchen in the quiet.....alone in the house on Kensington Court.

David and I built the house in 2006, when we were first married.  We chose everything together, and for those of you who have built a house, you understand that includes everything from the light fixtures to the color of the tiles on the roof.  Building a house is a process of love and labor, and making it into your home is the best part.

I went upstairs to Cameron's room and recalled standing there during construction, six years prior, engaged and soon to be married, knowing for certain that I would be looking out those windows some day with a baby in my arms.  I walked down to our bedroom and remembered the magic of birthing Madison in that room, and the love that filled it that beautiful evening.  I peeked into the nursery and recalled the hours rocking my children until they slept, holding them close in my arms.  In the living room, I could picture both my girls learning to walk, David and I cheering them on as they teetered for balance.  Down the basement, I sat and took in the marks we made on the wood by the door, preserving forever how our kids had grown in the past four years.  I stood in the kitchen and could almost hear the laughter of Cameron and Madison.

I walked over to one of the built-in bookshelves and saw two scratches in the wood.  I remembered how angry I was the day that Cameron had done that.  Then I thought of Tom, David's friend, who came to see us soon after.  I was complaining to him about how children destroy your belongings, and gave the example of the scratches in the wood on the bookshelf.  Tom, in all his wisdom, said simply, "Some day you'll look at that and remember how precious childhood is, and how quickly it goes by.  It will be a good reminder to you of how much you love Cameron."

For a moment, I thought I would break down, but I didn't want to go there.  I was starting fresh, and a house was simply wood and dry wall.  The memories there were all about my beautiful little family, and I would see them in a matter of hours.  As long I have them, I don't care where I live.

I closed the door behind me and never looked back.