With the help of a few, very brawny men, we moved all of our furniture into storage on Saturday morning. On Saturday afternoon I started to feel like we had all the time in the world to be finally prepared for this...shift. It's still hard to call it a move. I never thought I'd be moving back to Arkansas. And I'm not. Not for good anyway. It is just so hard to let go of a city, a region, a people-culture, and people I've always loved so much. Because letting go for eight months is still letting go even if we'll be back in October. Anyway, back up to the surface--Saturday, I felt like we had plenty of time.
Today is Monday. Monday night to be exact.
Tonight it feels like we have only two weeks. And counting.
Why is it that two days can cause such a drastic change in perspective? Well, we aren't talking about years here. Weeks. And only two. Also granted, it dawned on me today that B.daddy will be traveling soon, making this one full week as an all-together-in-the-same-room-family before this...shift. So, yeah, I'm still very grateful to be in a place where I know for (98%) sure what our next immediate steps are. And I am excited about the changes, the possibilities, the opportunities. But I'm also in this empty--but astonishingly messy--apartment. I'm in limbo between the last eight months and the next eight months, with clothes to pack, meals to prepare, children to love, friends to be with.
The kids are doing very well, in spite of their little worlds being turned upside down.
So, we're good. Just getting ready.
I can't imagine the inner turmoil going on. Know that I'm praying.
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