I just wrote another post about moving and I haven't gone back to read it but it felt very self-indulgent. I'm sure you don't all want to read something that resembles a twelve year old's diary so I'm starting over. Because there are THINGS I want to say about moving that a twelve year old would not think of nor have the emotional capacity to feel. Exclamation mark. And these things just happen to be probably a little bit funner for you to read and for me to write although I have to admit, my last post was very cathartic.
When? Next Friday? Where? Just staying here in Phoenix, moving about two miles up the hill. For anyone who is LDS, we are even staying in the same ward, which is kind of a miracle and really nice because we ❤️ our ward. Why? Because we are moving into a house with three bedrooms and a yard and an awesome kitchen! All of which are seriously lacking here.
The biggest reason we are moving is because we think we will be much much much much happier in a home with those aforementioned things. Not that we haven't been happy here. We have been. But it's been the "make the best with what you have" sort of happy rather than the "oh my gosh I love everything about my life" happy. Actually, okay, correction. Most days, when the kids nap and TerrBear and I get some time together and we're not too busy and the house isn't too messy and dinner is good, it's been the "I love everything about my life except where we live we really need to move" happy.
Listen, I know that's just us not having a great attitude. I know, first-world problems. I know I know I know.
But if I have learned anything about making a house a home over the last 4 1/2 years, it's to be sure to live somewhere you actually want to live. Don't live somewhere just for convenience sake. Because you LIVE there, Your experiences will be affected and limited by where you actually live.
The thing that I feel most sentimental about is that I brought both my babies home to this house. On both of their first days home, we set up the rock-and-play in the living room by the window and the light peeked in and kissed their sweet, new, napping cheeks. They both took their first steps on that tan carpet. They were both rocked and nursed and soothed in that upstairs bedroom. They were both so loved here.
I've been wondering about our new home. How will it feel? Will my life really be one hundred million times better with a yard and a better kitchen? Will my babies really nap better with their own rooms? Will our house feel less cluttered with 300 extra feet of space? But most of all, will it feel any different?
This condo is brown and blah and not built with a family of four in mind but it feels like home. It oozes our essence. I feel safe here. I feel love here.
Will our new home feel like that?
How long does it take for the walls to learn to imitate their new owners? For the air in a home to taste the same as the people who breath it? Instantly? A week later? A year?
You know that song "home, I'm going home, home is wherever I'm with you"? I think there must be something in that. I think that the house must be the skeleton, the people the heart. I'd take a million more years in this brown condo with my three boys over a million years in the dreamiest house without them.
Grateful that we all get to move on to a dreamier house together this time.