I’m still here. Actually, no, now I’m HERE. New home.
(This post will be a bit of a photo dump since I promised photos of our move and now have a lot to catch you up on.)
The move didn’t really seem real to me until I went for a run this morning. I ran the path I used to walk with a double stroller and a four year-old on a tiny bike next to me. It was the same path on which we used to have to stop ten times for bike breaks and to give the little ones more Cheerios. I passed the park where I met my dear friend Amy- the one I knew would be my friend because we were the only two not with perfect manicures or name-brand clothing on.
The run was good: my first in over a week, since it has been too icy and cold to be safe for me to run. But I knew it was time to go because Sam came home last night and hung hooks in the bathroom for our smelly running clothes. My back doesn’t like the packing and unpacking of boxes. So today I ran past all these places that are like old friends: bigger trees, more path, but so familiar.
Such a circuitous route we took to this house. We moved out of this neighborhood seven years ago because we lived too far from my hospital for me to take call from home. I was spending nights “sleeping” [mostly not] on the couch in the doctor’s lounge if I had a patient in labor. On the long weekends, it was too far to go back and forth multiple times, and I would pump 60 hours of breast milk and keep it in the mini fridge in the doctor’s lounge until I drove home Monday morning. One morning I came home and realized I had left nearly a quart of milk in the fridge. The strew broke the camel’s back, and we started looking for houses closer to the hospital.
But my group doesn’t attend at that hospital any more. I work at a different hospital. Sam spent a good hour every day (often more) in the car. I was jealous of those hours he spent in the car. I wanted him home. I love his work ethic; I didn’t love his commute. So we sold our house and lived with my parents while our new house (a mile from our first house in Denver) was built.
The past seven months felt much longer than that, despite the many blessings of living with my parents. We have acquired a lot of bad habits that now I have to undo, such as:
- SweetP getting up from the dinner table after three bites and coming back later because she’s hungry.
- Eating crap because I didn’t have room to buy good ingredients in bulk and make our own food.
- Eating a narrow rotation of food because I didn’t want witnesses [my parents] to the protests when I introduced something new and interesting.
- Saying Yes to all manner of screen time just to keep the noise level down and the mess contained.
These of course are only the ones I’m not too embarrassed to post here. You can imagine others.
We’re back in the city. In walking distance of the library. Close enough to the house next door that they will know exactly what I’m yelling at the children as soon as it’s warm enough to open the windows. But we’re so close to Sam’s job. Monday when he left his lunch on the counter, we ran it over to him.
Our people have come out in droves this week to welcome us back. Even my dear [former- sob!] neighbor and running partner showed up with donuts. We’ve had more visitors here in five days than we had the past seven months. And it’s good.
Thank you for praying us through the transition. Thank you for your kind comments and prayers and especially for hiding your eye-rolls when I complained about having a warm, dry, safe place to live filled with people who love me. Please know that there is music in my kitchen as I write this post and the sun shining on the chair where I read to the children. I am so grateful.