I haven’t posted in a week. Why? Well, I’ll tell ya! I’m packing up a house.
That’s right. I’m packing up everything we’ve accumulated these last five years and moving closer to my parents. Much closer, as a matter-of-fact. So close I’ll be able to bundle Charlie up and trek through some woods to get to their front door.
For those of you who know me well, you know this is something of an psychological coup. The idea of moving this close to my parents had always been symbolic of needing help, not being able to make it on my own, not cutting it in the real world. Something, something, something. The truth is, none of this rings true to me anymore.
Remember that post I wrote about needing to turn off the internet for a while and just get a little space and quiet in my head? Well, this is the result of that space.
We were in the middle of having to make some kind of decision as to where we would live. The house we’ve been renting is for sale and the deal is – they sell it, we have to move in 30 days. That’s all fine when you’re living on your own but I couldn’t imagine having to make a snap decision like that with a baby. And they’ve been showing it A LOT. Scary stuff.
We had three main choices and each weekend I’d stew about it. What to do, what to do? One weekend my husband said, lets move closer to your parents. That was one of the three choices and the one on the bottom of my list. But the minute he said it, the funniest thing happened. It made real sense.
It will be amazing for Charlie to be so close to his grandparents. I’m so excited to get to hang out with them again. I get all teary even when I write it, but I’m going back HOME! Where I grew up. With the beaches I grew up on. And the restaurants I hung out at. The same mall I’ve been going to since I was five.
The exact same things would have turned my stomach a year ago. But now?
All I can hear in my head is home, home, home, home, home.