I kissed the hubs today as he headed off on a business trip. His transitional phase has begun, and mine, too, I mused on the ride home. Tuesday the house was listed, with everything shiny and clean and ready for them. And this marks his last day of the job he has had for the last 14 years.
I am sitting here by myself in perfect quiet in a perfectly clean house, expecting to feel - nostalgia? melancholy? - but I feel absolute calm. I didn't expect to be able to savor the moment. But I am lording over no dustbunnies or dishes in the sink, and loving this home more than ever before.
One of the reasons I ticked off the houses I've owned*loved*left is to remind myself of the process. I know I didn't buy it or pick the kitchen countertops here, but the hubs and I fell in love here, I met and came to love his family and embraced the community. Our neighbors are friends that we socialize and spend time with. Our community knows us, and we connect with them. And I am well aware that change will be hard for more than just us.
This morning as I wiped down the counters and staged things just right, I saw this for the first time as a gift we are giving ourselves, to open another even better chapter. It will be hard to leave the keys on the counter one day soon, but we will.
I can almost feel the little pirate ship surge along the track and just before taking flight hear the excited words of Peter Pan invite use along, with 'Come on, everybody, Here we go...'
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