The Last Sunday
On my last Sunday morning in my home of twenty-five years, the universe smiles down on me to give me my most perfect day.
I believe in signs.
And I know this morning is a meaningful one. Its energy is not lost on me. Its sweetness.
I began the morning in all my usual ways – watching the local news, brewing a cup of coffee and toasting an English muffin with peanut butter. I checked my emails, book sales, did a little exploration online of Adirondack chairs for the new house. I plugged in the iron to finish up the last few items just out of the dryer to wrap up my every-weekend ironing, preparing us to run headlong into another week, the last week in this house.
But then I left the iron sitting there.
The sun rising just over the back trees cast the most beautiful light on the deck. It shimmered through the deck doors.
Pause. Be present. Enjoy your last Sunday in your family home.
Humidity, ironically, just broke this morning….on my last weekend.
The air felt fall-ish as it turns to so quickly at the end of every August in Maine.
Although it makes my husband sad to think colder weather is coming, I am always elated.
I like the change. I love temperatures in the 70’s and crisp enough that I can take a walk or sit outside without sweating.
We’ve been asked repeatedly if we’re sad to be leaving this home where we’ve raised our sons. Our neighbors have been stopping by as we pack, the garage getting ever-more full. They are (kindly) sad.
We moved into this home when my older son was two; my younger son was born here. Both sons said of course the house sold in just 4 days – it’s the perfect neighborhood in Portland to live in. It thrills me they’ve loved our home so much. They’ve loved our neighbors, the location, the weather, (and air/water quality after now both living in the south for years).
My husband and I have loved all these things, too.
We could not have asked for more.
We’ve lived a wonderful life in this home with each other, our extended families, our good friends.
We were sad in the process of looking for a new home…sometimes.
But it’s been a 6-year process, not a whim. And I think that’s what makes change bearable. Baby steps. Research. Up + down emotions along the way to get you to the finish line. And then, once the decision is finally made (and the kids’ pictures removed from your walls), the train has left the station with you on board. Leap, and the net will appear.
You arrive at the place emotionally where you are already gone.
There will likely be a tear or two when we lock the door for the last time, take a long last look pulling out of the driveway, and head off on our new adventure. It’s all good. This is what life is about.
As I stand watching the sun inch ever slowly over the back trees and our “dollhouse” shed, I smell the sweetness of our land, my husband’s garden in full bloom, his blueberry bushes.
A gentle breeze blows in.
My perfect day.
There’s no vase of blue hydrangeas on the kitchen table, no candle to light at dinner time, no pictures on the walls.
Blessed for all that’s been. Memories held deep inside that we will never forget.
Grateful in looking forward to all there is to come.