I had spent the whole weekend lifting, packing, moving, shoving, throwing things into boxes, selling stuff, haggling with people about prices at our garage sale, cleaning, watching Luke, and trying to be as productive as possible. It was time to get things done!
But during the last bits of day on Sunday, it all collapsed on me, and I felt it's weight.
You know the life-is-moving-forward-and-this-is-good-and-weird-and-fun-and-stressful-and-hard-all-at-the-same-time kinda feeling.
I stood in Luke's old room and took in a moment. I swept up the dust, and it was bittersweet as I thought about how many memories where made in that place. I mopped and remembered the hours I spent rocking my firstborn in the corner rocker--the moments that we brought in the wee morning hours right in that spot.
I know those memories don't dissipate when you move forward into new places and new times. Yet, I always feel the sacredness of those moments when I stand in the empty room that was once filled with so much.
It was the home that rang in the exciting news of pregnancy with us. It was the home that ushered in parenthood with us and welcomed us in with a new baby in tow. It was the home that watched tired parents pad around at night and creaked along with us. It was the home that was filled with congratulations when Josh finished school. It was the home that held up the floor for Luke to take his first steps in. That home is a keeper of many dear and milestone memories.
There's always that mix of emotions when you lock the door for the last time and look back knowing that you'll never step inside that place again.
Yet, we are excited for our next place to call home and wonder what memories that home will bring in. So, even though moving on is a little bittersweet, we are so thankful for both this coming adventure and for the time we spent at our little house on Enfield.