"Is it normal to be sad about moving and excited at the same time?" T asked me after coming in from working in the yard. "I just got the woods the way I want them and now I have to leave them. On the other hand, no more poison ivy!"
This pretty well sums up my feelings about the move. I'm an Air Force brat, so I have had my share of moves (20 to date) and I feel this way every time. In the sad column, we have leaving my house just as I get it looking the way I want it to look (except the master bath. Ran out of time. Rats!); losing the BEST NEIGHBORS EVER - I don't know what we will do without them; finding a new school for Z. I love the one she is in and despair of finding a comparable one in New Town.
In the excited column we have living close to family (with cousins just the right age for Z and Q!); a change of job for T that will be new and exciting; a house with the bedrooms and the laundry room on the same floor (Holla!).
When I got my new computer, I cleared out my office to make room for it. Unfortunately, in my hurry, I just transferred the mess into the formal dining room. It was like squeezing toothpaste out of a tube: easy to get out and nearly impossible to get back in. I tackled that mess today. Filing and sorting and throwing away the detritus of our life in Small Town. It was satisfying to get everything organized and put away, but has left me a little melancholy.
I'm going to miss this place.