“If ever you want to know who loves you, who your true friends are, move. Yup. That’s right. Move your household. But first, you have to be willing to ask for help.” -C.K. Kochis
It’s almost nine o’clock and I am whopped. I’m writing this post while laying in bed eating cole slaw on potato chips because it’s the only piece of furniture left in the house after the big move earlier today. There is a wooden rocker, but it has a bag of my bike-riding clothes and random stuff. It would be too much trouble to move it. Besides, the bed is obviously more comfortable for writing.
The anxiety leading up to this day was atrocious. That may not be the best word to describe it; again, I’m tired, my feet hurt and I think my butt has officially become one with the cotton sheets covering the mattress. Once the closing date for the sale of the home was scheduled, I had to face up to my
fears downfalls inabilities reluctance traits – asking for help. I am, after all, superwoman! Watch me do it all.
As expected, the first phone call was to my youngest son. My sister-by-another-mother contacted me and offered to help (volunteering her husband’s services, too). Everyone had Monday off so scheduling a day was the easiest part. I thought, we can do this. As the days counted down and the anxiety flourished, I worried if we could do it in one day. My son asked his father-in-law to help and I found the courage to ask Jeremiah’s brother-by-another-mother (the two boys were instant best friends, “brothers”, on their first day of kindergarten) to see if he was available to join the fun, too. This stubborn gal bucked up, pulled up her big girl panties and dialed his number. Josh’s cheerful response was, “Of course. You know I’ll always help you anyway I can, Mom.”
The events of today seem a blur as I lay here in bed sinking into more of a horizontal (less upright sitting) position. My son (Mason) and his father-in-law (Mike) took care of the shed and pole barn. Sandie, her husband (Kevin), Josh and I tackled the house. Oh my…
Listening can be a challenge when you’re bullheaded
All week the forecast for today called for thunderstorms. Until this morning, both of my weather apps clearly stated there was no less than a 60-90% chance of rain all effin’ day.
Mason had the brilliant idea of renting a 26′ moving truck and approached me about it two days ago. At first I thought that’d be a waste of money. We have a ten foot long trailer, you know. And then reality whopped me on the side of the head. DAH! One twenty-six foot ENCLOSED box would be filled once… that means O-N-E trip! Sweet!
My reluctance evaporated and I agreed to let him pay for it. Okay, yes, I will pay him back after I receive the money from new homeowners. Alright, after I get my last paycheck from the job I resigned from. If he’s lucky, it might be as soon as tomorrow (I doubt it, though).
What a blessing that truck was! We filled that ENCLOSED box with two dining room tables, three desks (including one oak roll top), two office chairs, file cabinet, bistro table with four chairs, three end tables, tools, candle making supplies, totes, boxes, shelving units, a freezer and way too many things to list. The majority of the items will be sold in this Saturday’s yard sale. What’s left will be donated. By the way, we had partly cloudy skies with NO rain.
In this moment, I cannot begin to express how grateful I am for the help I received from Mason, Mike, Sandie, Kevin and Josh. My mind goes to the quote on the mug I purchased from Evolve Books & Gifts in Glen Arbor on Sunday that reads: “If the only prayer in your whole life was thank you, that would surffice” -Meister Eckhart. Is expression of words enough?
Gratitude for cherry Kool-aid vomit
As I walk through my nearly empty home, the flashback of memories embrace my heart and bring me to tears. This was our dream home. For twenty-six years it served its purpose and it’s time for me to start a new chapter. No. A new novel in my life.
I am grateful that my late-ex-husband just happened to come across this property by chance.
I remember all the various locations within our home for the Christmas trees.
I am grateful for all the family and friends that sat around my dining room table hungry for the homemade meals I prepared with love.
I remember the stories shared around the bonfire pit.
I am grateful that the guys had a pole barn to fix the cars and trucks (especially when it was mine).
I remember the trails we made in the woods for our quad and snowmobiles.
I am grateful for all the tears my garden absorbed and transformed into beautiful perennial flowers.
I remember a fair share of our struggles and triumphs that these four walls witnessed.
I am grateful for the ability to climb out of bed to retrieve the box of tissues from the bathroom counter to sob up the flowing tears.
The love of family made this house a home. And now it’s time to pass the door lock keys onto someone else so they, too, can build precious memories here on “Hobbs Knob”. I cannot recall how we came up with that name; I just know it was shortly after moving in. I will miss the sunrises and sunsets from atop our hill.
I will never forget the night one of the boys came running out of their bedroom and vomited red Kool-aid on the champagne colored carpet in the middle of the dining room less than a year after moving in. We were certain it’d be there forever. One parent took care of the child while the other parent started tending to the floor. As I lay here in my bed with a clear view of the location, I am grateful even for that moment. It’s a good reminder that no matter what happened we did our best, we worked as a team, we laughed, we cried… but most importantly, we did it as a family.