There's something worrisome about counting my chickens before they're hatched but nonetheless, I can think of almost nothing besides the pending sale of our home. Saturday evening we received an almost gleeful call from our dear realtor Max who reported that he was holding an offer in hand for its purchase. We hemmed, hawed, went back and forth and finally settled on the terms last evening. Closing is scheduled for the 18th and I can barely believe it. Provided nothing goes awry, we will be moving to Massachusetts in short order.
Bob was a little melancholy last night as he looked at the sunny photos of his beloved desert getaway. While I too have a fondness for the place we call our home, there's nothing sentimental about my own couch or pots or books that reside within those walls. My home is wherever we come at the end of the day to reconnect; it's wherever I know my boys will rest their heads. I view our moving as a new chapter. We've chosen a place that we think embraces the values we share and a community where we can see ourselves a part. It's always hard to move past the known and into the unfamiliar but we hope it will be worth all this effort.