It is done. Well, at least I think it is. Last night the girls and I headed for my parents' house for a few days, and we left Brett behind in Solvang to finish packing up. I haven't been able to get a hold of him today, so that leads me to believe that the finishing up was more than he anticipated. He'll be making the long trek across the country with all of our worldly possessions. He's not alone. He'll have his brother, parents and two of his sisters along in the caravan. Family road trip, indeed. Hopefully, they are on the road as I type.
My emotions are a bit all over the place. I'm sad to leave the home I've loved for the past eight years. I'm sad to leave our friends and neighbors. Even though I'm in another city and know I'm not moving back into our home (at least for three years), it still doesn't quite feel real. It feels a bit like I've gone on vacation. How is this possible? Perhaps it is just how my mind is trying to deal with it all. If I tell myself that it is just a "vacation" then perhaps it won't be so sad, so painful.
At the same time, I'm excited about the new adventure we're on as a family. I feel confident that this is where we're supposed to be headed. Yet, that too doesn't quite feel real. The girls and I are indeed "on vacation." After a few days at my parents' home, we're headed to the mid-West to visit some extended family for a week and then on to Virginia. I think this move won't really be REAL until we arrive there in about 1 1/2 weeks. In the meantime, I plan on enjoying time with my family and getting some rest. Moving is exhausting work. I really don't want to do it anytime soon. Maybe I will be recovered in three years time.