We’ve moved into my family home, the one I grew up in. And it’s been the longest, most disorganized move of my life. When I say of my life I’m talking of roughly 20 moves I’ve done so that’s saying a lot.
Total chaos as I’m still trying to make room for me to bring over the rest of the stuff from my other house so I can get it cleaned and rented or sold. Stress levels are beyond.
Then this happened to put things into perspective.
Me: *comes upstairs while trying to find a drill bit in the tornado of tools in the workshop, crying*
4-year old: Mama, why are you crying?
Me: Because honey, I miss Nanny and Poppy. This house is a mess. Everything’s a mess. I don’t know how I can live here.
4-year old: But you have to live here. Poppy’s heart is in this house.
Me: *stares, jaw drops*
4-year old: Poppy’s heart is in this house. You will see him if you live here. You have to.
Yup. Once again hit square in the face of the logic from the mouth of a babe. My child seems better equipped to deal with this move than I do.