on moving

Even when you know something is the right choice, the right decision, the right move, it still feels so strange to pack up and leave.  We moved in four years ago sad and broke just three months after we lost Mike's dad and Mike's job and we left last night* a little less sad and a little less broke, a year after we lost his mom.  In between there were good things, happy things**, but that place still feels weighed down with loss and mourning.  With just a little too much struggle.

Our new apartment is clean and bright and feels, well, new.  A break, a fresh start, a real physical change to help along the emotional one.  It's time.  And it hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet, but it feels kind of amazing already.

*yes, last night, being Wednesday, which means on Tuesday, the morning of moving day, we got a call from our broker letting us know that the place wasn't ready yet. Stressful two days ensued.
**Mike proposed in the living room of 2A.  He got down on one knee right there in front of the couch and asked me to marry him.  It wasn't all bad there.