In the past several weeks my blogging time has been spent assembling cardboard boxes (book-size, crystal-cell, wardrobe tall) to the zzzippp-riiiip tune of strapping tape coming off of the roll. Accompanied by grunts, groans, and the inevitable muttering of, "Do you know where the (fill in the blank) is?" And the occasional pointed quip: "Mmm hmmm, purple bowling ball from the 70's. Sure, sweetie, I understand . . . "
We have moved. Again. Which makes twice in 4 months. Probably no big deal by military standards, but sure feels like a bunch o' work to me. From Texas to the northern California lease house. Then to the new home we purchased MUCH more quickly than we'd planned . . . but is just perfect for us. Perfect, meaning that it meets our combined criteria: Killer Kitchen for me. Three Car Garage for hubby. Though there are plenty of other bonuses, the coolest (in my opinion) is that all of the streets in this particular community are named after famous authors! As in, "Turn right at Michener, pass Stevenson, hang a left at Dr. Seuss . . . " I'm exaggerating, but you get the picture. It's delightful and a little like being surrounded by old friends. Speaking of surrounded:
The new house also has a wonderfully lush and private backyard. With a pond, waterfalls. And teeny little frogs that hop down from the trees. To sit on the edge of the hot tub and stare at us, their throats vibrating like eensy green-speckled balloons. I like to think they are warming up to say something warm and charming. Like, "Welcome back home, California girl."
On the other hand, they could be about to squeak, "Duck, dummy, my big brother's about to land on your head!"
It's been an adventure, for sure. And though we're pooped, there have already been SO many blessings associated with being back to "our roots" --like being there when our baby grand daughter took her first steps. And being close enough now that our children and other 5 grandchildren can visit by way of a drive or short flight. Wonderful!
In the short while we've been here, we've been able to host a first annual Easter Egg Hunt, attend several laugh-filled gatherings with old friends, a touching Celebration of Life service for a nurse friend who passed away unexpectedly, as well as "be there" for dear friends going through a very difficult time. I have no doubts that moving back West was in God's great plan for our lives.
We've moved. And this time we're staying put. Anybody need any packing boxes? Strapping tape? Purple bowling ball . . . oops.
So, question: I heard recently that more than 50% of people live within 5 miles of where they were born. I'm home again. How about YOU?
2 comments:
Not I. Less than 200 miles from my birthplace, but as long as it's Texas, it's home!
My hubby and I moved back 4 years ago - I'm less than 5 minutes from home. Always said I'd never move back. Never say never!
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