This is unexpected ... I am anxious in a scared or nervous way about the move. I think I am going to have to break this down in to smaller parts for myself. Call this piece "getting the house ready to sale". What happens if the house sells too fast? What happens if it doesn't sell? ... and the process of "letting it go" is ... difficult. My husband doesn't understand that at all. Truthfully, I don't either. Some resistant part of me is saying the most precious moments of my life were spent in the light that pours in through these windows. Hmmm, it's a surprise. I tried to explain this to L at lunch yesterday, and again last night while we waited for Chinese take out. I asked him to help me, but he understands this even less then I. BF says this is normal, and at least I want to move back to Texas. Lotsa conflicting emotional attachments. Interesting. I am certain that I want to be back towards Texas. My husband says I am mourning ... Arrrrr ... I ask him to please stop saying that it's just incorrect and annoying. He likes to shortcut to a label. I know mourning ... This is not at all mourning. This is a little bit like regret. You start to examine your things, deciding what is worth keeping and what gets a second chance elsewhere ... and maybe there is some second guessing or in hindsight sort of thing going on. I open boxes that have remained closed for years and I wonder why I kept that. What was I thinking ... didn't I know that was beyond its usefulness ... for us anyway? Yesterday I worked in silence ... Listening to the birds. Quiet like that hosts reflection. Yes ... that is it. A change is happening and I reflect on what was and how it might have been ... better. Better is good to look for when making another start, but ... my husband did zero in on this: He said what was most important to me was providing our children with the childhood I wished for, and that we had been largely successful at that. He is right. This has been a home for a family of seven. Next home will be for four ... Briefly, bc Four will be away at college very soon and she is the independent type. I'm glad I am working through this. I wondered yesterday about what I am supposed to do with the momentos from "their" childhood, and today I see that I am supposed to make certain there is room for it under our roof until they have their own roofs. This helps. My mother started throwing away my things as soon as I left for college. I spent the week of my Dad's funeral at home and went back to school ... and never saw any of my things from home again. I guess I would still be dragging a box with my Raggedy Ann and who knows what all around. What would be in that box? I think I need to think about that. I can put those memories "there" and it can be as real as it might be if if really were real ... A box in an attic ... never touched, precious still. I have a "box" like that. Angry ... Hurt ... Rattles around in there. Maybe I can give my mom a break ... maybe she just didn't know what to do with stuff that wasn't hers. Her life changed. Hmmmm. That is part of this. Life is changing. My brother called on Sunday ... "Goodmorning Sunshine" he said and I smiled at an old memory. He told me that the paperwhites I potted for them while we were over there last month are sprouting and have buds forming. He is rough and tough and an ole softy. I knew he would enjoy watching them grow and bloom. Anyway ... He asked me about how this moving project is going and reminded me of something I had entirely forgotten. One of our neighbors was moving and for some reason we (my brothers and I) had the moving dolly ... We tied a rope to it and I held tight while they slung it round and round. I remembered. It was crazy fun. The greens and blues overhead swirled blurring under the summer sun. We were all laughing ... living large without a care. Until I slipped off. Serious road rash ... Nothing was broken, but there was blood everywhere! My knees are a mess to look at ... there are scars on top of scars. My older brother carried me home crying ... I wasn't big on crying, but I think I knew I was on my way to a tetanus shot. Man, those needles they used in the sixties hurt ... ! Tommy had fallen from a tree just a few days before ... his right arm was in a cast. It's good to have a buddy to remember and laugh with. Moving ... Stirs up stuff. I wasn't expecting that. I think I need to reframe this as an adventure. I like adventures. 1.10.12