Cardboard Boxes

It's the last night in our house and I can't sleep.  Everything is boxed, everything is packed, the house is empty except for our beds and scattered trash--a feat that couldn't have been accomplished today without our friends and family.

The idea of moving is too big to wrap my head around completely, so I’ve been taking it in small bites.  Initially it was all excitement.  New town, new house, new people, new adventures.  A few weeks back Roy and I took a road trip to find a place to rent, and I immediately fell in love with the small-town feel and the trees and the friendly people.  Every random person we met was so nice and willing to help and talk to us.

It wasn’t until we returned home and I stood in the doorway to Camden’s bedroom that the first wave of sadness washed over me.  I remember Roy carefully painting the white lines on the wall.  I remember the day we set up the rocking chair in the corner and I imagined the impending late nights I would get with my sweet newborn.  I remember laying that baby down in his crib for the very first time and thinking how tiny he looked.

Yeah yeah, maybe I’m a sap, but I’m sad to leave the home we brought Camden to.  This is where he took his first steps, this is where he learned to say, “Mama.”

Speaking of mamas, I quickly realized how sad I will be to move away from mine.  I know that’s not fair of me to say, because so many people have to live so much further from their mothers than I will.  Four hours isn't terrible, I know, but it will still be an adjustment for us.

Nearly every day Camden asks if we can go to Papa’s house or GG’s house.  And you wouldn't believe how fast they are there for us when we need anything.  Leaving them is definitely the hardest part about this whole thing.

And believe me when I say that means something.  This move has had quite a few wrenches thrown into it.

I'll tell that story later.  Time to sleep.