We expect to be in our house for a couple more years. But with the kidlets now graduated, grown and gone, the house is too big. There is too much room. Thus our time here grows short.
It is also, of course, where our kids grew into adults.
We survived two natural disasters here: a flood and a wildfire. We have also lived through lesser catastrophes, such as hailstorms, snowstorms, and the like.
But leaving this house behind is inevitable. It will be sad, but is utterly pragmatic – and at some point, the right thing to do.
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When I was in high school one of the guys in my immediate circle of friends had to move to a distant city. All of us in that circle were disappointed, to put it mildly. We were becoming young adults learning to determine our own destinies, after all – but this move involved parental maneuvering beyond our control.
And then: a reprieve! Or so it seemed. According to eyewitness accounts, the friend’s dad was seen walking around their back yard, fondly taking it all in. Surely, we convinced ourselves, he was having second thoughts about leaving.
Now, approximately one ice age later, I understand what was happening. The dad was, indeed, fondly taking it all in. That’s where little Billy used to play cops and robbers, he must have thought. There’s the tree he fell out of, and broke his arm. And right over there, we had a great birthday party.
There was no reprieve.
I’ll miss this place.
