It's 4:30...
…in the morning.
Well, the movers are gone. It took a bit longer than it was supposed to, but about 6:30 last night the truck left, and so did I. The moment was entirely unemotional.
I had shipped the kids off with Ali around four-something and finished the last couple of hours by myself. It turned out that flipping off the light switch and closing the door behind me was in no way what-so-ever like the final episode of Cheers.
Part of me wonders what that’s all about. I mean, that house was home for many years, and California was for all thirty-six. I grew up in one of the best and most beautiful places in the world, with privileges everyone should be so lucky to experience. Apart from the political nightmare and economic disaster that is the state, I have no ill will toward California. There’s never been anywhere else I’ve wanted to be.
Until now.
And there it is. The reason this move is entirely different than any other I’ve made (and I’ve made a few): Colorado is where I’m supposed to be. I now know what they mean when they say, “You just know.” I doubt I can explain it much better than that for now. I think that, instead of trying to get to the heart of it right here and now, I will let the next few years worths of blog posts paint a more detailed and telling picture. This should be interesting.
So why am I up at 4:30 in the morning? Let’s just say I got to bed much earlier than usual last night, and leave out any mention of Abby calling out for “mommy” constantly, or PJ wanting wanting to nurse all night or the fact that I left my “good” pillow with the movers, and….
…you get the picture.
Next stop: Las Vegas. Can’t wait to see you Andrew.
