Been up to my ears in paint brushes and cleaning solutions, so just a quick post. I'll be buried in house stuff for the next couple of weeks and then final edits on Starsight. We will be headed to our new home hopefully soon, but have to say goodbye to a place we have learned to love.
Matt and I have been in this house for thirteen years. That may not seem very long to some, but to us, it's the longest we've ever lived in one place. Rolling stones try to peel off the moss when they stop, and we have been rolling for years. When we finally decided about 10 days ago to sell the place and move onto a new adventure, we had trepidations, excitement, and stressful decisions to make. Having a bad guy outside my window actually sealed the deal, but the reality of it is finally sinking in. We've spent 13 of our 15 years together in this house, raised our kids, saw Matt's mother through blindness and then cancer, wrote five books, a musical, and sculpted numeous sculptures. In other words, we solidified our love and our lives in this home. As I clean, paint, and plaster through each room, echos of children's laughter mingle with the sound of sanding. Heated debates about politics, religion, movies, and life get muffled under the paint roller. Visions of stretching kids flicker like mirages through the ammonia fumes. Excitement for the future weaves into the sadness of leaving. As each room is spiffed and polished, a little more of our past disappears under a new coat of paint. We look forward to our next journey, but sadly smile at the last. We fervently hope the love and laughter in these walls will comfort the next tenants during their new journey.