It's The End Of An Era
This past weekend my husband and I made final preparations to move out of our home. Sure, we had thrown out things and put what was left post-Harvey into a storage unit, but there was a finality involved in this past weekend's activities. For my husband, it was business as usual. But for me, it was just plain hard.
The rational side of my brain says that this is just a house - brick and mortar. The less rational and emotional side of my brain (and the side that I most identify with) says that this is so much more. I was struck by how this past weekend affected me. Indeed it is the end of an era. My house represents so much more than four walls to me. It's two floods, one yard of the month, and a marriage. It is random wine-induced Thursday night dance parties to Chuckii Booker with the best friend. It is epic house parties, an office building, and countless amazing memories. It is my first baby and the symbol of the payoff for hard work. It's home.
And so the "I will never lay my head down in this house again" thing, and the "we are really putting a 'for sale' sign in the yard thing", and the "'what the hell is next?' thing" rushed at me fast as we watched the trash company come and take away the last bits of trash from our garage and haul them away.
We've gone back and forth about what to do in the next phase of our lives. I'm excited about choosing a place to live with Hassan because let's face it - the house we call 'ours' was really 'mine' for longer than it wasn't. But set aside the excitement and what I really feel is fear. Fear of the unknown. Where are we going? Did that area flood too? What kind of house makes sense for us? Do we need to live close to our parents? Will I like saying the new street name as much as I like saying 'McKnight'? Do we want to take a breather from owning and rent for a while? So imagine all of these questions and not one answer!
What I can say for now is that we are going to press pause on figuring out the next move in our lives and just catch our breath. I've never been particularly good at patience. I'm someone who wants to know the next move five years before it's time to make it. And right now I can't see two days ahead of me. It's a weird place to be, but it's where I am and where I will remain until we feel prepared and clear-headed enough to make any sort of decision.
So let's raise a glass to the last 11 years of memories. McKnight Street was really something. And that's the best way I can sum it up...