Some one close to me(eh-hem...Kudos to Uncle Mike) reminded me that we are not just packing up a house and stuff, but memories. I read that comment a few weeks ago, when I was on the verge of annoyance and tired of packing, sorting, and wanting to just be done with the whole ordeal already. I am not as excited for this move as my husband is. The house is perfect and a dream, but it is a reminder that it is not our own and that we have to wait a little while longer until that dream can be fulfilled again. It makes me feel desperate and angry, sometimes, knowing we were so close to home ownership once again, and to have that yanked away unfairly, is pretty disheartening, to say the least. Excited I am about getting out of the small, crowded house we are in now. Excited I am for the views of the Olympics and the Strait only a walk down the road. Excited I am to have a full closet, with doors, and enough room to entertain friends and family. These are the things memories are built on. I am
Journals, thoughts, and ramblings of a devoted wife, mom, writer, and teacher.