Things are progressing with our sale. My friend Mindy came by tonight and said, "It's hitting me that you're not going to be here anymore. And that will not be convenient for me." I am feeling it too. Part of why I'm not packing is because that's just how I am. I am a procrastinator, and there are three more weeks until we move. I have worked hard to acquire boxes so things can be packed. I have freecycled and even stolen (sort of. Empty boxes outside someone's house in a pile. I knocked on the door and they didn't answer. That's not really stealing, right? I sincerely apologize if you're a freecycler who was supposed to pick up those boxes on the 600 block of S. Patterson Park Avenue. My bad). Anyway, I am excited about the new house becoming a home. Maybe even a bit obsessed. I fall asleep mentally decorating the girls' room (there will be a reading nook. And a canopy!). I scour Craigslist daily. Daniel says I'm ahead of myself, and he's right.
"Umm, I don't think I'm fat," I said, fake smiling.
"Well, your belly's fat," she remarked. "Do you have a baby in there?"
"No, but thank you for asking," I said.
"Well, it looks like you do." Now, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't angry. Daniel said I needed to let it go. As you can see, I have not taken his advice. But aside from that, it was wonderful.
I know it's time for us to go. I know there are things we are learning in the leaving and in the next stop. I believe there will be healing and new obstacles in our new place. And of course there are things I won't miss, like my daily chore of circling the block for bad parking while Mirabella asks, "Mommy, did dat guy take your spot? I will pray dat we get a spot, right in front of our house, okay?" Okay, maybe I will miss that a little bit. She really does pray it, out loud, then waits expectantly when we pull up. Her faith humbles me. I bet she doesn't fall asleep wondering what rug will be on the floor of her new room or how her things are going to get there.