AIn 13 days we move and it would seem that I’ve decided what better time than now to perfect the art of procrastination? The boxes will pack themselves, right? After the kids go to sleep, I look around, see what I “should” be doing and promptly sit down on the couch with my book. I spend the next couple of hours absorbed in another world, pretending there aren’t boxes to be filled and things to be cleaned.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to be moving. I know that it’ll be great to have the extra space… but there’s a very small part of me that doesn’t want to move.
I like our little apartment. It’s familiar, it’s safe but mostly it’s home. For the last five years, every time I’ve walked through our front door, I’ve smiled. There are so many memories held within these walls, I wish we could take them with us. I look at our fireplace and remember the long night we spent tiling it and how much fun it was to use a timber saw to build our mantel. I walk into the bathroom and revel in the heated floor. I remember that with every single paint colour I put on the walls, Eric would look at me and say, “Are you sure about this?” only to later tell me how great it looked. It’s the only home our kids have known. It’s where Tehya was born. It’s where we’ve grown and loved and been happy.
Over the weekend, we went to our new home to walk through the garden with the sellers and learn what was what. Ella had a great time running around in the backyard, as we chatted about the garden, the house and the neighbourhood. After being there for 25 years, she seems to be just as sad to be leaving their home, as I am to be leaving ours.
We’ve learned that these are a few of the plants that will be bringing us colour come spring…
So I try to remind myself how wonderful that will be, as I sit and procrastinate!
Happy Thursday 🙂