We are moving in the next couple of weeks, and I am having some mixed emotions. I’m excited to be moving back into my childhood home, and Mike and my boys are excited too. For them, it’s a new house, but for me, every where I look, there is a lifetime of memories. In the living room, they see a space to put our furniture, I see in my mind the Christmas trees of my childhood, and feel the excitement of waking up to all the gifts Mom and Dad got us. Mike opens the door to the master bedroom and talks about where our bed will go, and I am seeing my mom lying in her bed the last day she spent at home before she died. The kids see the huge yard and the fire pit, and I’m taken back in time to the picnic we had where we played “spoons” and my sister Brenda cut Bobby Knause’s hand with her nails grabbing a spoon. They look at a space and think, plenty of room for a garden here, and I remember teaching my nephews to swim in the pool that used to be there. I am very anxious to make some new memories in that house with my kids and grandkids. The tree Daddy planted when I was just a baby is still there, but like me, it’s a little taller and a lot older now. The tire swing will spin my grandkids around, just like it spun Mom and Dad’s grand babies. I will try to balance the old with the new, but I am asking Mike and the kids to be a little patient with me. There are going to be many tears I think along the way.
To them we are simply moving. For me, I’m coming home.