Our last night at the house and all is near done. It is one of those bittersweet moments. This has been such a great neighborhood and in particular, a great few blocks. I have never been so close to neighbors and felt so a part of a community. We have been very fortunate and it is going to be more difficult than I imagined. I think I have been ignoring the present sorrow and focusing on the future 3 bathroom glory. The past year has been almost unbearable in the small house (read: weensy kitchen, one bath, kids sleeping in basement....) but a great year of outside living and interacting with our neighbors. Larry from two houses up has brought over two very distracting bottles of wine this week to prevent us from packing. Did you know that packing is way more fun after two glasses of wine? It is.
One of my main concerns to obsess over this week has been memories for the kiddos. I worry as we simplify and toss "clutter" that we are erasing childhood memories and breaking any sort of attachment to things they have built. I see small class projects, silly notes, clippings, etc. ending up in the rubbish bin and hope that they themselves chose to not keep the item. I hope they have preserved memories in their own little way and held on to keepsakes they deem important. Not that I expect them to move a box full of half used notepads, tacky souveniers, random desk supplies and such (not that I am hinting that it has been done or anything.) Remember Woodstock? No, not the epic outdoor concert, but Snoopy's sidekick? I kid you not, I moved a plastic windup woodstock for YEARS. He rarely left his box he shared with Suzy Zoo notepads, smiley face stickers, rainbow heart shoelaces, and jumbo pencils, but he went where I went. My dear Grandpa Dick had given it to me when I was like, 8 years old. So, I hope the kids have their Woodstock somewhere safe to follow them through our moves. I know that I look forward to unpacking my sturdy tea mug with the peace star on it.