“But I love this house SO MUCH,” our 4-year-old said with tears pooling in her eyes.
It’s hard to be four and sell everything you own. It’s hard to watch as your favorite leather couch and your treasured playhouse are towed away on someone else’s truck. It’s hard to see that beyond today and over-the-bend, there will be other adventures.
She’s been so good about it all, so strong…but I know that her little heart is aching too.
In between Craigslist postings and RV-viewings and house-showings, Tim & I are doing our best to maintain a semblance of normal for our girls. We play in the sandbox, read chapter books, and buy push-up pops from the ice cream truck.
This is THEIR journey too; their sacrifice. There have been tears as we transition. We want to let them grieve through the loss of this season of our lives. [Who am I kidding? I need to do the same thing.]
My heart skipped a beat yesterday when I looked at our empty great room, knowing that our other rooms will soon look the same – immaculate, impersonal.
Not a day goes by when we don’t sell or give away something – dishes, clothes, toys, bookcases. It’s just “Stuff.” It doesn’t really matter (but it sort-of does).
Endings are most always bittersweet. Yet I know…all four of us know…that this is really a Beautiful Beginning.
Random Question: Is there an ice cream truck where you live and what is it like? What are the average prices?
Update: I removed the word “ghetto” from this post after Michelle pointed out that she took offense to the word. Prompted by her comment, I did some reading on the definition of the word and decided that it has a very sad history (one that I don’t want to take lightly).