Another moving day has come and gone.
As always, I have been blessed with help from unexpected sources, and was able to get everything done by the walk-through time. This move, in some ways, was both the most and least stressful move I have ever made.
It's been the most stressful because I simply had more stuff to move this time than I ever had: last time I had a moving day, I didn't have a 300 lb couch or a kitchenfull of dishes. Also, I took no time off (except moving day) in order to get it done.
I started packing almost a month ago. Carload by carload, my stuff began to disappear, until last Friday, a very sunny day, a friend, my fiance, and my future father-in-law came to help me move. We loaded. Then, some stayed to help me clean. I had felt like I was "doing it alone" for a long time, and had felt worn down. Exhausted. My nerves were frayed, and I was wondering how in the world I was going to do this. It seemed that the box agony would never end.
But it did end. And it ended well, too! I am relieved.
Right before the end, on Thursday night, two girls who had met me one time before came and helped me for an hour and a half. My HT, who I have grown to greatly appreciate and admire as the best of friends, came and helped me not only move dirt, but also took apart my keyboard for me and helped me figure out how to take apart my couch for removal the next day.
And my lovely fiance came and helped. He lifted boxes and a bed and cleaned and put up with my moving-day jitters. He told me "we've got this" --and made it be so. He hugged me when I got discouraged and encouraged me to take little breaks. He offered me water at random intervals because he's thoughtful and knows I get dehydrated easily and can get caught up in things and forget to take care of myself.
He tells me he is here to take care of me. Then he does things to back it up. And that, dear readers, is why I am moving. There are things I will miss about my neighborhood and my apartment (my $20 utility bill, and the grocery store across the street, and the water three blocks away). But when I consider that I am gaining two boys and a man who love me dearly, that seems like small potatoes. Small potatoes with eyes in them that nobody would want to eat anyway.
On moving day, my fiance showed me something that his younger son wrote on his homework. The assignment was to fix the sentence, which read something like, "my parents got Married on june 19, 1990." He fixed the sentence -- not exactly as instructed, because our L does not like to do things that way, but it was correct nevertheless -- because above, he inserted a caret, to make the sentence read, "My parents are [getting married] on Earth Day."
Normally, I would wish more for my child to excel in school. But on this day, for this assignment, it meant more to me than any silly A+ that he would write that on his paper. It made me cry. I will cherish it and remember during the hard times how much he loves me and how happy I was in that moment.
So, take that, moving stress! And take that, school system! Our family is becoming official!
