Friday, August 12, 2011

Every road trip of 1200 miles begins with a blog posting from Starbucks

We are officially on the road.  Just left a fine roadside hotel just outside Indiannopolis.  On our way to lunch in St. Louis.  A brief pause here to just say “hi, I love you” to my sister, my other travel partner, the one who understands why all travel plans center on the next meal. Larry would say St. Louis is a good stopping point because we can see Wash U where he went to college.  Also true.  Kids have been entranced by "Diego’s Ultimate Rescue" via headphones.  Larry & I have David Broza.  Its me, my husband, my children, and my dog.  Life is good. 

Yesterday was move day.  It went about as smoothly as a moving day can go, and for that I am very thankful.  I was jazzed through lunchtime.  Adventure starting!  Then, rooms began to totally empty  And I started to wander.  And then sit for awhile.  Then cry.  First in the kid’s bedrooms, thinking about all the stories I read to them there.  To Caleb first in his crib; then toddler bed; then “big boy” bed that is currently on an American moving van somewhere on I-70.  Also remembering when we first switched to the toddler deal & the pediatrician said, no, Larry is not a sado-masochist, its ok to lock him in his room like a prisoner (fine, it was just a baby gate at the door), and let him scream his brains out for three hours; this is how you teach him this is where he sleeps now.  Sigh.  

Then downstairs to the living room.  Now bawling. This is the room where Adina first came home.  Walked through the front door and into this room from the hospital.  Remembering Adina’s simchat bat.  This same living room filled with family and friends.  This is what made 2592 Bexley Park Road so special.  The friends who came for Shabbat dinner, the family that gathered for Rosh Hashana, Thanksgiving, Passover.  The children who created art in the sukkah.  The girlfriends who sat in the living room in their pajamas, drank red wine, and ate figs.  Home. 

Yes, I realize that this is not really a sad story because, no, I did not forget to mention me lifting a single box.  Didn’t happen.  Thank you Children’s Hospital of Colorado. The work of unpacking and making 400 trips to Lowes awaits us on the Denver end.  

Back in the car we go.  

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