Friday was my last day at work. It was a bittersweet week filled with lunches and stories and “lasts.” The last meetings, the last time I’ll visit with some people and the last time I will be a planner for this company. As we pack up our house of  12 years, I’m often reminded of the “firsts.” My boys had their “firsts” in this house. First steps for Myles, first teeth lost for both boys, first garden they remember, first crushes and heartbreaks, kindergarten and school programs. We moved here when Dallas was 1 1/2. It’s the only home they’ve known. They rode their first bikes here, carved all of their pumpkins here & done all of their homework here. They’ve had friends play,(but not as many as they should have had because I was too worried about my messy house.) I’ve rocked them in the living room and dried their tears in bed. It’s the only house they’ve ever known and I’m taking them from it. It makes me feel crappy and selfish, but I know it’s a move we need to make. For reasons that I cannot explain to them, we need to move. Onto a new adventure.

While a house is just a building, a home is wherever your family is. I hope they understand that someday. I hope they forgive me for taking them (all of them) from their friends and their routine and their “normal” into something all new. I hope they see it as an adventure, an opportunity for a new start. I hope they learn that the people you want to stay in touch with are the ones you always will. Your true friends will be able to see you anytime & pick up right where you left off. I never moved around as a kid. I was also 1 when my parents moved to Kindred but I was married and on my own when they moved off the farm. People who have moved around as kids reassure me that they will do fine. They will make new friends and stay in touch with the ones important to them. I’m not sure how to explain that on Monday, their last day of school. I’m guessing there will be big tears. Kind of like the ones I have now as I write this. I will dry their tears and hug them and let them know that my arms are their true home.

We are entering a whole new chapter of enough. Is our house good enough for someone to buy? Will they fit in enough at their new school? Will I fit in enough at my new job? I have to trust that the answer is yes. I have to trust that we’ve been led in this direction for a reason. I can’t wait to see what that is and how it unfolds. In the meantime, I’m sure there will be fishing and skiing when we aren’t unpacking and finding a farm to call ours.

Peace be with you on your journey of enough, and please say a prayer for a good transition for my family. It’s not “good bye,” it’s “see you later.”