Moving the contents of an entire house without the help of a moving company is something I wouldn’t wish on the worst of my enemies. Even after getting settled into our new domicile, my muscles still ache.
As the old house was emptied, saying goodbye grew easier. Once you strip all the personality by removing the things that make it feel lived in, you’re left with a hollow shell. Floors, walls, ceilings, and coldness. Of course it’s not so much the “stuff” that makes it a home, it’s the family.
But the back yard–if you ignore the lack of outdoor furniture–still brings back vivid memories of my children racing through the dead leaves of Autumn, our old basset hound prancing behind. And of course, there’s the tree that started it all. The first picture I uploaded to this blog. As I set foot on the back porch one last time, I snapped the pic you see above. It’s fitting that the tree is bare, surrounded by Winter. The end of an era.
It took awhile to hook this computer up to the internet, but I’m back. This new place is temporary, but comfortable. I’m sure we’ll form plenty of new memories.
Nick Enlowe 