I have moved my entire life.
I feel like I've moved more than I've stayed...if that makes sense.
Military people get this of course. I thought everyone did, until I met my hubby and his family who are stay-ers instead of go-ers. Despite having moved my entire life...this is the first time MY family will have moved.
We got married, and lived in this house.
We had a baby.
Then we had another.
It's all happened here. Good news, bad news...I found out I was pregnant in this house (twice...both funny stories). I labored in this house (again twice...those stories are more painful than funny, but good memories nonetheless). My kids learned to walk and talk and potty in the toilet in this house. We became a family in this house. And now I'm packing it up to start life somewhere else. I'm excited for the transition, truly, moving is in my blood. But I have a heavy heart about the memories we're leaving behind. I'm beginning to feel it as I'm packing room by room. I don't think it will really hit until rooms start to look empty.
But I really am excited about paring down to the bare essentials and living very simply over the next 6 months or so. I think we'll learn a lot about ourselves as a family...and be the better for it.