Exhausted beyond reason, flopped on the mattress, didn’t even bother trying to find sheets- I realized I would never be falling asleep in the other house again. I cracked one eye to stare into the room and waited to see if I had any feelings on the matter.
“Nope” I decided- apparently not.
Maybe I’m too tired to feel bad. Maybe there’s something wrong with me for not feeling bad. Maybe I’ll get to the end of all the unpacking (haha) and suddenly have a feeling about it.
It’s entirely possible that I never had any emotional attachment to the old house in the first place. I mean, we’ve been there longer than any other place we’ve lived in the last 12 years- I had huge family events there, birthdays, Thanksgivings, backyard parties… Its where I taught all the kids to ride without training wheels, baked the best cakes, where the front hall closet has 3 years of little marks in the door frame growing up and up and up… But it’s also the house I didn’t want to spend all that money on (yes it worked for us in the end but it was a tight couple of years)- it’s the house we lived in when Husband lost his job, and a year and a half later nearly lost his life in the work accident- it was the house I was almost ready to walk away from. The house I lived in when I didn’t want the life that went with it anymore.
It’s just a fancy pile of sticks.
I miss the ravens. There are gulls here, and these itty bitty “regular” crows. I miss the giant Pteravendons that I used to toss scraps on the roof of the garage for. I miss my friends. Without them I would never have survived five years in that town- and I sure as hell wouldn’t have survived the move. I miss the little girl across the street that was my son’s best friend and her parents who were so happy to adopt him so I never had to worry if I couldn’t find a sitter.
The new house smells different, and it sounds different, and the light is different as I move from room to room. We figure on being here for at least 5 years, and I will definitely plan the next move better. But it’s just another fancy pile of sticks in the end. It’s the PEOPLE that make it a home.