This week has felt a lot like reading the last few pages of a favorite book, looking forward to the story’s conclusion but not necessarily wanting it to come. We’re moving out of our very first home at the end of this week and moving in with family for a time before the puzzle pieces of our future start to fall more clearly into place. Leaving our very first home! A tiny two-bedroom apartment where so many firsts took place. All of those newlywed firsts that have since become routines but are still, nevertheless, tied to this first little space: first meals cooked together using our first set of plates and kitchenware; first Christmases spent beneath our first family Christmas tree; a first neighborhood that we felt was really our neighborhood, one that we got to know so well on walks to the farmer’s market or over drinks during happy hour. The small space where we learned the first few rhythms of our marriage and our life together.
But now we’re leaving. And we feel good and happy about leaving. After nearly two weeks of taping and packaging and organizing and scrubbing (I should really take a shower), it’s sort of nice to sit in our apartment’s new emptiness and think about the “firsts” that took place here as well as those exciting “firsts” that are to come. Like first baby giggles and first baby steps. Eventually (hopefully!) a first home for us as we navigate becoming for the first time a family of three.
We’re happy. We’re sad. We’re feeling the anxiety and excitement of that inevitable last page of what has been, so far, such a good story. But mostly we’re thankful for important things like family who have been there to support us during these transitions, a baby girl who since January has stolen our hearts, and for the memories we can revisit about our time in this first little space.
Moving! I mean GEESH. Pregnancy sure makes it an emotional experience. 😉