|A truer fortune could not have been read.|
And just like that, we are neither here nor there. The first half of yesterday was spent packing up those last things... the things that are placed in boxes marked "miscellaneous". The night before had been spent with the best kind of friends, laughing and breaking bread one last time before we left for good. Though does anyone really leave for good these days with airplanes and social media and such? Anyway, we had aimed to head out by mid-morning, but you know how these things go. We had several rooms left to clean and mattresses to get on the truck and last minute this and thats. We were exhausted and overwhelmed... it felt as if we were wading through molasses.
I have cried twice throughout this process: once on Sunday while having a farewell lunch with my beloved CrossFit coach who has also become a dear friend. In trying to tell her what both her and CrossFit have meant to me, I broke a little. Then there was that time yesterday. I had stubbed my toe and painfully broken my pinky toenail. Kiddo spilled his breakfast juice, spraying it across the floor. And what lay between me and the open road was what seemed like an insurmountable amount of work still left to do. So I put my face in my hands and sobbed for a good 15 seconds. And just as quickly as the tears had come, they left. Because although moving away from an old life and all that it entails is an inherently difficult process, it's also joyous. Otherwise no one would ever attempt such a feat.
Although that house never quite felt like home, it provided shelter through a pretty profound period of our lives. Kiddo finished elementary school, then middle school. Countless nights were spent poring over textbooks and writing papers at the kitchen table, which earned me a college degree. Husband's career has seen its fair share of changes, too. The woman that walked out of that house for the last time yesterday scarcely resembles the one that first stepped foot in it almost 7 years ago. In only the best ways. I'll look back on this period and see a lot of hardships. But there was a lot of good stuff, too; though it's often hard to keep that sort of perspective when you're in the midst of all the fuss. As I walked through all the empty rooms, not once, but two or three times, I chose to remember only the good stuff.
All of our earthly possessions are nestled inside a 26' truck. It was no easy feat, let me tell you. And while I'm on the subject of loading said beast, I have to take a moment to mention my husband. Because, gosh, he's something pretty amazing. I have one of those men. He heaved impossible loads onto his back, single-handedly hitched a trailer to a moving truck then secured an SUV to the trailer. He held down the fort and plugged away so I could say some last goodbyes to friends over lunch and complete one last CrossFit workout. Scraped elbows and sweat-drenched shirts be damned. He worked through exhaustion and frustration and didn't quit for a second. Just when I think it's impossible to love him more, to be more proud of him, he shines even brighter.
As the last square foot of floor was mopped, we closed the door on our old life and drove away. And have been doing so ever since. The days are long, but time becomes rather fluid when facing the open road. And I can think of no better place to ponder one's thoughts on life, love and blogging. The truck devours diesel, necessitating regular stops, so we never quite reach a point of intolerance. A gas guzzling engine would normally get under my skin, but I have decided that this is most certainly not the time or place to dwell on one's carbon footprint. Road trips are also chock full of wild behavior like Starbucks stops at 9p and the reckless consumption of audiobooks. My iPod is chock full of literature I'd probably never read in paper form... I can already feel my mind being broadened.
We have found a steady rhythm. New Hampshire, Vermont, New York, Ohio, Indiana, and now Illinois. Tomorrow we will see more of what The States have to offer. And in a few short days, we start our lives anew.