Seven Days and Counting

If everything goes as planned, the next seven days will be our final days living in this house. The moving truck has been booked and most of the house has been packed up. The animals are on high alert; they know something is up.

Despite the craziness going on in the world around us, we’ve been told the sale of our house and the purchase of the other one can be finalized on Friday of next week.

My mind had been preoccupied with worries of a virus and empty shelves so much in the last two weeks that it was only this week that I started to say to myself “This will be one of the last times we draw on this sidewalk,” or “This is one of the last times we will watch a show together in this house,” or “This is one of the last times I’ll wave at that particular neighbor from across the street.”

Much like the news these days, it’s all a bit surreal for us right now.

My daughter played in the water that always settles in that one place in our driveway after the rain one day last week and I thought “This is one of the last times she will ever jump in that puddle in our driveway.” Then I remembered that soon it won’t even be “our driveway.”

My son rode his bike toward me and as I looked through the photos I thought “this is one of the last times he’ll ride his bike down that street.”

There are a lot of memories in this house; first cries, first steps, first lost teeth. There are ghosts too — a kitty in the corner that’s no longer there; a puppy on the end of the bed whose also no longer there. We owned four cats and two dogs (not all at the same time) while living in this house and three of those cats and one of those dogs are now gone.

We’ve lost a lot of relatives in the last 16 years we’ve lived here — grandparents, a special aunt, aunts and uncles. We’ve lost friendships and some innocence. With all that we lost we gained a lot too. We gained wisdom, appreciation of what we had, and a stronger bond with God and between ourselves.

I’m nervous about this move. I won’t lie. I’m nervous about doing it when the world is upside down around us.

But part of me is excited too.

There are new memories to be made, more experiences to be had, and maybe even a few new beginnings too.

Written by Lisa R. Howeler

As a writer, photographer and former journalist, Lisa R. Howeler writes a little bit about everything on her blog Boondock Ramblings. She self-published her first novel, A Story to Tell, in September 2019 on Amazon. She's a wife and a mother and enjoys a good John Wayne movie and a cozy Jan Karon book. She's also a freelance writer and photographer who is a contributor to various stock agencies, including Lightstock and Alamy. Her photography work focuses on documentary and photojournalism.

8 comments

  1. I’m both sad and happy for you. I’ve been going through those feelings and we haven’t even listed our house yet! You learn every part of the house from the sounds to the way it feels and it becomes a part of you. It’s hard to leave that behind. I’ll be praying for you all during this time! Put on your hazmat suit and get to moving! 🤣

    Like

  2. Praying for you during this move! What a gift that you have documented so many of those moments as you’ve lived there. May God take such good care of you, and keep you so safe as you move into His next place for you!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow, that’s so close! I hope everything works out, though I understand it’s so hard to leave a home you’ve had for so many years. My husband and I have moved around a lot in the past decade, so we haven’t really set down any roots, but it was still hard to move every time. Good luck, and stay healthy!

    Liked by 1 person

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