As I see the light at the end of the tunnel looming and I look to the inevitable "lasts" (last dinner in our kitchen, last night sleeping here, last romp in the backyard), I find myself overwhelmed with sadness, anxiety, and nostalgia.
My cousin made reference on Facebook the other day to the latest Miranda Lambert song, The House That Built Me. And while this house didn't build me from the ground up as The Homestead did, I do feel like it has molded me in many ways. As I think about the "lasts" that are just around the corner, I'm reminded by all the "firsts" we've had here, too.
First house - First (and second) baby welcomed here - We got married here, had (semi-) annual New Year's Eve and Summer parties here, even hosted our first Thanksgiving and Christmas here.
We've had a lot of fun, shared a lot, grown a lot. Anyone who really knows me knows I don't handle change well. Specifically "moving on" change. I don't part well with old belongings, I fear new beginnings and loathe big unknowns. This move has all of those things associated with it so I just want to get this next week over with. But instead of mourning the upcoming "lasts", I will cherish them and try to remember they are merely finishing the chapter that all those "firsts" began. As my sister-in-law, Debbie, said..."New memories await!"