I am moving. I am moving. I am moving.
I thought if I keep repeating it, maybe it will feel better as it comes out of my mouth. Maybe the words won’t hurt, won’t make my heart ache, and won’t sound so sad.
But it didn’t work.
I am moving. And ever since I have said it and made it official, I feel like I am living in this weird in between place where this life is moving forward around me and without me, and a new life is beginning and starting without me.
I suppose its natural to feel out of place before I am even gone. How could I not? I am going room by room getting rid of extras, clutter, things we don’t need to move. I have been walking the halls deciding which bits of the last 12 years of my life in this home can we let go? We have painted over the childhood rooms of our boys-the camouflage I painstakingly painted on the wall for my oldest when he turned 5 is now a neutral tan. The handprints and growth lines are all gone. I have taken the posters off the walls and trophies off the shelves. It’s a silent letting go.
I can feel it in my friends as well. Once the words are spoken ‘I’m moving’ they too have to let go, begin the process of forming new bonds, new friendships, find a new BFF, a new go-to girl. No one can replace the memories and friendships we have, but life goes on as they say, right? Gradually I know that I will not be the first one they call for drinks on a Monday or shopping on a Saturday because I will not be there, but in tiny ways that process has started before I am gone. They are already talking about bathing suits and the beach-a season that I will not be a part of this year. This summer I will be somewhere new. My toes will not be in the sand, my face will not be turned up to the sun, and my chair will not be in the semi-circle staking out our piece of prime real estate. It’s not their fault-it’s a natural progression of things, but it casts a sadness over me just the same.
My husband will move before me. Four months ahead of me, and while I don’t want to leave this place, I am jealous of him. He gets to start his new life while I stay here in limbo. He will make new friends without me. By the time I get there with the kids, he will have a favorite restaurant, maybe a new lunch spot. He will know his way around and have new routines and I will be just starting. I will be able to look at houses and neighborhoods and look up all the things I want to do or get involved in when I get there, but its not now. I will stay and watch as things come up that I want to do or get involved in here, but I can’t, because I won’t be here.
I am on hold. Kind of not here, and definitely not there.
For now I will just keep repeating it-I am moving, I am moving, I am moving.