This morning I sit in the sun with my cup of coffee. I'm listening to the birds and the dogs quietly snoring in the sun. The kids playing, my neighbour talking and the rumble of the traffic. It's a beautiful day and I am so very sad.
Tomorrow morning bright and early a bunch of friends will be here, we will pop a bottle of champaign and toast to a day that will be hard work, physically for them and emotionally for me.
Tomorrow we move ....
Last night I made us sleep with the doors to the balcony open. I have always loved hearing the quiet moans of the city as I sleep on hot summer night. But there are no more nights left for us here.
The new place will be lovely but I am allowing myself this day to just feel totally and utterly mournful. I am paying attention to everything.
The drip of the shower sounds like the most wonderful of sounds. The cracks in the walls look like intricately perfected designs ... Today everything looks perfect and beautiful and mine. Because tomorrow my home is no longer my home and a week from now I won't even be able to walk in the door.
Yes home is where the heart is and as long as those boys are with me it will be my home but it won't be this home. This home that I have loved and worked on, dreamed in and of, spent 1000s of hours cocooned inside its walls. Feeling safe. And comforted.
And no matter how much I cry or how loud the voice inside my head begs for it not to be true .... Tomorrow we move ....