Today, I'm packing. My house is full of boxes.......empty boxes ready to fill with stuff......boxes already filled with stuff. I'm packing up our life, our things, our memories. I'm compartmentalising the past four years, four years of accumulated joy, stress and love.
When we were told we had to move I was excited. I was looking forward to a new start in a new house. I felt it was a good opportunity to cleanse and reassess our lives and decide where we wanted to go with our future. I was over, so over our shabby discombobulated house. But now, with three weeks left to find a place to live, nowhere seems good enough. We need to find a place to build new memories. A place for four children to grow, extend, flourish.
This house has been amazing. We arrived here when Mr (nearly) 5 was 10 months old. He learnt to walk in this house. I enjoyed my last pregnancy within these walls. We bought Miss 2 home from hospital here. She learnt to smile, laugh, roll, crawl, walk here. Miss 8 and Mr 4 had their first day at school and came home to tea & cookies in our kitchen. Mr 10 has grown, matured and achieved in this house. We came home, here from our wedding. We've had birthday's, Christmases, holidays, parties, games and joy here. The walls are permeated with the fabric of us. I love the odd layout, the large, airy rooms, the view over the mountains. I don't want to leave.
I walk through the rooms and pack up the photos of my smiling children. I pack up their toys and carefully fold their clothes. I know that wherever we go we will make new memories. That happiness will follow us as it always has done and that our new home will also be a place of joy.
Have you ever had a home, a place that you've always felt connected to? Is it where you are now or is it a place from your past?
