I went to our old house today to pick up mail and a few other little things we accidentally left behind. I was at the new house during the move so I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to our old place and I was fully prepared to burst into tears upon entry today because, emptiness. And then... Nope. No tears. I didn't even feel sad. Our old house was just a house. Unrecognizable. Like a stranger. Without our stuff everywhere -- without the pictures on the walls, without ALL OF US, it was just another place we'd been before.
I unpacked insanely fast because I wanted to feel at home here as quickly as humanly possible. I wanted everything to be where it needed to be so that we, as a family could move forward... I wanted to walk these new halls and feel safe and stable and cozy and HAPPY, surrounded by familiar things... I wanted to arrive at the inevitable exhale after many months of feeling breathless. I wanted my babies to feel like they belonged here and (SUCCESS!) they totally do. We ALL do. This is our home now and I feel grateful and privileged to be here. (If this was a movie, we would totally be driving into the sunset in ye olde Buick convertible... adjusting our Ray Bans, eyes to the horizon, like, "let's ride.") Goodbye and good luck, sweet Esteban the house. Hi and hello, dear "Leona" the home. 🦁✨🙌