This is the last day of packing, lifting, and stressing. The movers come tomorrow morning for the furniture and then we’re done. The lease isn’t up until the 31st, so we could technically still move things this weekend, but the goal is to finish today.
I haven’t been feeling nostalgic about this move, this house, because it’s never felt like mine, but yesterday I spotted this paint splatter and got a little sad.
When Adelaide and I lived upstairs, we’d come down every morning for breakfast and she’d point out this spot and say “piggy!” and sometimes laugh. Apparently she thought the shape looked like a pig. (I don’t really see it, but she did the same thing a few months ago after not noticing it in a long time, so maybe it’s just me.)
Adelaide had her first Christmas and birthday in this house. Her first steps. Her first word. Her first day of school. Most of her firsts, really.
I don’t know that I’ll miss the house itself, but it’s a little sad to leave behind someplace that housed so many big memories.
But like Scarlett O’Hara, I won’t think about that today; I’ll think about that tomorrow.
Because today I just don’t have the time.