That Place

It's been a particularly rough few days for me. The kids are fighting more, my fuse has become short, and I wear lethargy like a lead apron.  The boxes are becoming more and more difficult to face each day.  The high of moving is gone and we are all feeling the downturn.  There is much more to it of course.  There always is.

We've made several trips back to the rental to gather up straggling items, do a final walk through, take out garbage and set aside our Amvets donation. On each visit I've remarked to myself how glad I am to be out of that place with it's crumbling pathway walls, waist high weeds, wobbly faucet, 1950's insulation and chronic smell of smoke and ash.  That place that until two months ago had no heat. That place so poorly managed.  That place where Phil died.

If you ask the kids are they going to miss that place they'll say "No" very emphatically and might even call it a slum.  I'd have to agree with them.  But our hearts are sorely hurting for having left that place all the same.  For no matter the condition of that house, it was our last home with Phil.  It was the place where we witnessed his final hours of courage and humility and the place we gathered to share our heartbreak and sorrow.  It was the place where neighbors cradled us in their collective arms and cared for us day after day after day.  From this point forward we will only move further away from that place ~ which is both good and sad.