Diary of a move, 8: IN and a Top Ten!

In nearly five years, this past break from blogging is by far my longest in Em-i-lis tenure. A move will do that to you. But we are in, and we are thrilled. Bruised, scratched, chapped and tired, but totally thrilled. Drowning in boxes, devoid of knives, a washing machine on endless loop, and no iPad chargers to be found, but thrilled.

At present, I'm sitting in my new family room. It has one lone couch in it, and my feet are propped on a box-cum-ottoman. I've scavenged an end table and lamp, and a friend brought us a gorgeous "new home" bottle of wine, a glass of which I'm enjoying to the utmost (thank you, Lori).  

I couldn't be happier, except if my lips weren't so chapped. A small price.

10 great aspects of this move:

1. It went smoothly, and our moving crew was amazing. No, we hadn't packed enough and so made a half-dozen trips back to our old house over the weekend. Yes, I am so grateful we could do so. Bottom line, the move was a good, nothing-broke one. Thank you to my friends who hosted the boys for Friday night sleepovers. 

2. We had a house full of natural light, and we have a new house full of natural light. What is better than being able to see the moon from your kitchen windows? The sunset from your family room? The warm wash of the sun's rays as you eat a quiet lunch? I love natural light cascading all around me, and our new house has even more than did our old one.

3. Out with the old... We didn't ace this sector, but the amount of stuff we gave away, sold, recycled, and tossed before relocating was epic. Boy did that purge feel good. Liberating. Fresh. Lightening. As I unpack and move in, I continue to let things go, and it's great.

4. Our new neighbors and neighborhood are positively dreamy. We moved on Friday, and by Saturday I knew several new people. Since, Bobbi has brought me an organic chicken and fresh greens and carrots from a local market. John helped us look for Nutmeg when we thought he'd gotten out (but was actually hiding inside our couch) and later shared his binoculars with the boys and me after walking us over to see a screech owl our neighbor Pete (the self-identified "resident birder") had located on the next street. 

This kind of community is amazing and just what we hoped for. Tonight's roast chicken and carrots and salad were sublime. The owl was so darling I almost couldn't stand it. Jack said on our walk home from seeing said owl, "We're walking in the middle of the street. This is just like Misse's neighborhood! I love it!" Me too! It's slow, steady, people have lived here for ages, and we are so happy to be here. And, screech owls!

5. My perfect kitchen table (and chairs) are even better than I imagined. I love them.

6. Nutmeg was a basketcase on Friday but has settled in so well. I'm relieved, because the caterwauling was intense.

7. The kids have room. We have room. We are one block from a fabulous park, and just forty feet from our front door is a lovely roundabout with a path across it.  

8. Billions was a somewhat-trashy but engaging show and still is. I like the cast. Damian Lewis' mouth is very small, but it works for him. It helps him seem super-intense. This is an aside but I watched both before and after the move. 

9. I have slept like a baby since we moved. A very happy baby. That's a good sign. It was a good decision. Many good decisions all in one. That feels wonderful. 

10. February is almost over!

Diary of a move, 7: The tide has turned

Oh, friends. For the first time since last Friday, I did not, today, cry about Percy. Also, we closed on our new house. Both are reliefs, but especially my slowly growing acceptance of having said goodbye to my sweet Percy.

I received some darling photos from Suzanne today. She and her granddaughters had Percy at Petco, just outfitting him to the nines in a snazzy new red harness and treating him to a nice new leash and some other goodies. I put a care package in the mail to him yesterday, and although my hurt still pinches when I think about him too hard, I can tell that we made the right decision and that I will come to feel OK.

T and I had a few hours at our new home this evening, as well as some lovely help from friends transporting bikes, firewood and tools. I cleaned and unpacked a few things, T handled some tech and wiring stuff, we ate a pizza straight from the box. We've moved three times together now, and each has been so much fun. A lot of work but so much fun. 

The sun shone this afternoon, and a moon beamed through a clear sky tonight. After snow on Monday and ice on Tuesday morning, today's loveliness all around was most welcome. And there are always little boys to keep your head on straight and a smile on your face.

More on the other side. Of the DC-MD border that is. ;)

What I didn't expect

I did not know how much it would hurt to say goodbye to Percy. I think I should have known, but I didn't.

I didn't know that I'd miss the click-click of his long nails against our hardwood floors. I didn't know how nice it was to have a food vacuum at the ready during each and every mealtime.

I didn't know that reflexively, early in the morning and around 3:30 each afternoon, I'd start to head over to feed him before remembering that he isn't here. I didn't know that come 8:30 each night, when the sky is black and the house is quiet, I'd miss his warm little body curled contentedly next to mine, his rough little snout emitting sweet snorts and happy sighs.

I didn't know expect that the house would seem quieter or that even Nutmeg appears to feel the absence. I didn't know how instantaneously the tears would come when I picture Percy's big eyes full of nothing but love or how much my heart would ache (break?) anew each time I think about him wondering where we are, when we're coming back.

I didn't know how awful this would all feel or that one should never, if possible, say goodbye to a longtime pet and a longtime home in the same week. In February. When the snow continues to fall and sometimes your stuck inside for a whole day and you look around for your oldest "baby" and he isn't there anymore.

I have often thought, over the years, that having a dog carries with it the same heavy expectations of constant joy as does motherhood. That if you have a dog and you don't love it, there is something wrong with you. I got used to faking it; better to extol the good fortune and bliss of having a dog than to feel castigating eyes wash over me when I shared my true feelings.

I didn't realize, as intensely as I do now, how I often faked it to Percy, too. That I didn't show that I resented the peeing, barking, begging and watchful, ever-hopeful eyes that made my shoulders droop in guilt and obligation. That it's not enough to love your dog in theory all the time, but in reality mostly after 8pm. Some of my tears are for the ways I let him down in those ways, over the years. Some come from my sense of having failed him, others from failing the ways I "should have" enjoyed him. And others, as I'm coming to see, flow because loving and caring for anything for more than a decade doesn't make saying goodbye, even though doing so was right, easy in any way.

The emotional maelstrom of this week -of saying goodbye to Percy, of losing a family member in a sudden, violent way, in packing my home and helping my boys acknowledge our mutual sadness while also being brave about all of these things- has been so much harder than I anticipated. I think I planned everything so well that I forgot to consider how I'd really feel about it all.

And how I feel is pretty shitty. 

I have so much to be grateful for, and I am trying to hold all of that front of mind. But, like motherhood and dog ownership, staying positive is sometimes easier said than done. So I'm trying to be kind to myself and patient, too. When the boys aren't watching, I let the tears come. I think there's healing in letting pain course through instead of within. 

This week I have been reminded, repeatedly, that I have so many good friends and a most marvelous husband. That they are there when I'm at my weakest, ugly-cry self and that I'm not failing them if I show that lesser side. I don't trust that enough. Don't trust them enough, I guess. And I should. 

My Percy is gone, and I did not expect to be so sad about it. But we know that he is getting so much of what he deserves more than we were able to give it to him. I'm so grateful to Suzanne for this gift. I am grateful to my friends and T for letting me do nothing but lean on them. I am grateful to my boys for making a magical, funny video memorial to our house today; we will treasure it always. I am grateful to know myself a little better now and a few new life lessons too. And I am grateful that this week is almost over because really, it's been a bear.