In between

I rarely like being in between (unless I’m in between my children).
We are moving in less than a month. I started packing about a month ago. I walk around and ask myself if we can live without *this* for the next 4 weeks. If I decide yes, then I throw it in a box. (Actually it’s much more detailed than that…future blog post). But in reality it feels like I spend some of my time wandering around contemplating what lies ahead for our family.
Daydreaming of how I’m going to decorate our new home, what it will be like to be a stay at home mom, and all of the unknowns. As I drift from room to room packing, I also reflect on what each room in our home has meant to us. I stand in our living room downstairs and remember the cursive letters that used to be the border on our walls as Gabe and Otto learned to write here, sitting at a card table. I remember the guests who have stayed under our roof and our first Christmas hosting all of Kerry’s family and we got the stomach flu…we were so thankful for the 3 bathrooms. And the bathroom in our bedroom is even more special. It is where our son Titus was born, my VBAC after 3 c-sections, my victory birth, my shock and awe…my last live birth almost 2 years ago.
Each room I pass through thinking about where the possessions will go in our new home and what has happened to our family in each room over the last 5 years. I am living in between the two. I vacillate between the future and the past, stopping momentarily in the present to pack a box.
Life in between.