A couple of nights ago Greg asked me if it felt weird that there were all sorts of things that were happening for the last time in this house, like the last time Elliot will sleep here (he’s going to Gramma’s tonight) and the last time the kids will sleep in the same room.
I hadn’t been thinking about it (my mind can only hold so many things), but now I have. It’s not just the house, too, it’s the things we do from or to the house. Like driving home along the “bump-bump” road, or walking to Macaulay Point.
Moving has always been a depressing time for me, as I say goodbye to all that is familiar and comfortable and say hello to, well, someone else’s house. At least I have recognized this about myself and can prepare for it. It doesn’t usually last very long, and I’m wondering if this time around, with two kids and Christmas to look forward to, if it’ll be a bit easier.