The Move Out

Here I am. Standing in the middle of my bare house. The furniture within it's walls has escaped to the POD parked outside. And here stands the shell that was once my safe dwelling. I can hear the stomp of my footsteps beating like a drum. I feel shock and a sense of numb as I look around, trying to save the images in my head of my last moment in this refuge. This house, that started the second chapter of my life-my two children running from infancy into childhood, my professional path sprouting through the ceiling, my marriage carving a path to the future. It was all housed within these walls. I can still hear the whispers of laughter from late nights with friends, birthday parties, and play dates.

Someday, maybe not just yet, but soon enough we would have been pushing at the walls, crooning our necks to the sun for some space. Better to cut bait now, while we still have some room to breathe. But, you’re never ready. It’s never enough time when things still feel rich and full of bright energy. Things haven't become grey yet, the colors in the sky are still sparkling. And soon enough, just like that, I will be straining my brain to remember the mental pictures that I took tonight. And as I take it all in standing in this space, quiet for just a moment,  I feel this time racing like the wind and cycling through me. I try to to remind myself over and over again, "Pause, breathe it all in, taste it while you can." I put my hand out and try to capture it  like a firefly, but it moves swiftly by me. This time is so elusive and all I want to to do is to stop and feel it on my face.