We made it.
We made it!
Well, sort of. Some of us are here, and some of us are still on the road with two cats, two turtles, and a hamster. And some--wait, make that all--of our worldly goods are, like, on the New York State Thruway right now.
But still, thank you God!
The last week really could not have gone more smoothly (if you discount the tremendous physical and emotional upheaval). Thus:
Friday: TTD finishes his job and relaxes visibly, almost glowing with relief
Saturday: We pack, or rather, TTD packs and I wrangle small children
Sunday: We say good-bye to our wonderful church, and pack. Or rather, see the above. I take down the pictures and the house starts to echo. The kids watch about eighteen episodes of Go, Diego, Go! and begin spouting facts about meerkats and tree frogs and such. I emote, because I think that Monday we're going to a hotel.
Monday: TTD awakens me at 9:30 (!!!) with the news that he's called off the packers b/c he's gotten so much done, so we have a whole day at home we hadn't anticipated. I inform him that he'll be rewarded for this, most likely with lots of sex (pretend you didn't see that, parentals! Though I guess what with my having two kids and all you probably already guessed that TTD and I get up to something occasionally. Then we have a few last playdates and keep packing all that dreadful last-minute mess of bath towels, sheets, phones, two saucepans, four plates, three glasses, and the cat litter. Not to mention the cats. THEN we spend our REAL last night in the house. I go outside and sit on the porch and say thank you to the little house which has sheltered us through so much joy and pain.
Tuesday morning: Beautiful and warm. Brilliant Friend picks us up at eight, just as a huge moving van pulls up. Ideal, kind, competent middle-aged woman driver and her husband and dog hop out and proceed to organize us within an inch of our lives. I walk out the red front door for the last time and watch the house receed in the distance, the moving van bulking large in front of it and the neighbor's cherry tree shedding pink blossoms around it.
Tuesday midday: Boyz and I have absolutely flawless trip, not one split-second of delay, everyone perfectly behaved and relaxed, glory hallelujah. Choose to take this as sign that move is meant to be. Arrive in Boston on time, come home, find that sweet Grandfather (aka my father) has put Rabbit-height sign up on front door: Welcome Rabbit and Urplet!, with funny cartoon pictures as only he can draw them. Delighted children play in Grandmother and Grandfather's yard, everyone collapses in bed early.
Tuesday night: TTD sleeps in empty house and says that it no longer feels like home without us.
Wednesday: First journey to new house. Excellent Brother loans me his Jeep, complete with iPod to listen to, and I drive the forty minutes to my new home. Beautiful old seacoast town, then a five minute drive into the country, and there it is: yellow, unassuming, perfect: home. I walk around and through, breathing deeply, and discover that the attic smells like my favorite house on earth, the 150 year old "cottage" in the White Mountains which has been in my family for five generations. Grandmother (aka my mother) arrives with small boys: Urp is fast asleep in his car seat, and Rabbit and I explore slowly and quietly, holding hands. He loves it like I do, with a steady and unspectacular and deep love. I can tell.
Wednesday night: TTD calls from the road. Two pissed-off turtles in Tupperware, one confused hamster in a cage wired on top of them so he won't cannon into the dashboard at every stoplight, one fat yellow cat sitting in a car seat and watching out the window, one nervous pink fluffy cat in TTD's lap, ears pinned back and one paw on the steering wheel. All systems go.
Wednesday late night: I am going to bed. Good night! And thank you all for all your good wishes. I cannot tell you how much they mean to me.