So Monday as we continued to work to set up the new house, we waffled over what to do. I had convinced Daniel that a sleepover wasn’t wise, that wasn’t a hard sell. But I could tell his heart was still set on going. I wondered if I would regret it if we didn’t. So we ventured over, with a vacuum cleaner, Pack and Play, toddler sleeping bag, Styrofoam cooler, and our ever present iPod and docking station. We ate takeout on the patio. At every turn I welled up. Images of our life together washed over me. I rinsed a sippy cup in the kitchen sink and remembered bathing both my newborns in it. (And also, man is it a beautiful and deep sink.) I looked down the galley kitchen I had long despised and longed for that kind of counter space. I saw the cabinetry, tile work, woodwork, paint, plumbing, and design Daniel had poured his heart and talented hands into over five years. It was becoming sadistic.
“I don’t think I want to come back,” I told him. “My heart can’t take it.”
Finally, Daniel said, “It’s time to go.”
Echoing the Alice in Wonderland theme of our Fourth of July in the new neighborhood, I said, “The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of other things. Of ships and shoes and ceiling wax, of cabbages and kings.”
“Wow, I can’t believe you just did that. That was really weird,” he said.
When I woke her, Mirabella said, “We have to go to the new house, Mommy? Because this is not our home anymore, right? This is not our home.” I winced and told her she was right. In the car she said, “I love both our homes, Mommy. I love two homes.”
I know that this one will always have a big piece of my heart, but the time has come to talk of other things.