More about moving.

The process of purchasing a new house is throwing me into some sort of emotional tailspin. I am not sleeping well, and break down into tears about leaving my current house. I have even felt moments of panic. Is any new adventure in my life going to open up old wounds???

My kids were witness to one of these episodes the other night. I started crying, and couldn’t stop.

They were so concerned: “Momma, what’s wrong?”

Then they looked at me like I was crazy when I replied: “I’m not sure I’m ready to move.”

You see, I’m tired of living here. The kids know this. I’ve been tired of this house for a long time. It is the proverbial Money Pit. Just when something gets fixed, something else breaks. I never really even liked it all that much when Andy and I first moved in here. But it was wheelchair accessible which we needed for him, and we could afford the payments. When we looked at it for the first time I certainly did not have the “This is the one” moment that I had the other day.

Every time we tried to move something would crop up; a hospitalization, tight finances, a new baby, overtime hours at work. It became apparent that we were going to be stuck here for a long time. So, we started turning this place into a real home. I planted my gardens front and back. A friend of ours added a picket fence for us. Finally we had an extra room added and Andy signed the papers for that right from his bed during one of his many hospital stays.

I’ve been thinking perhaps the reason a move never worked out before is we were supposed to stay here. A higher power intended this to be my home with Andy, and we really did make it ours. Now Arthur and I are destined to have a new home, if everything goes through as smoothly as it seems.

But it’s more distance between my old life and my new life. It’s another goodbye.

It hurts to say goodbye.