I’m picking up the keys to our new place today, and I’m so excited I can hardly stand it. I’ve got the trunk packed with shelf-lining paper, brand new brooms and mops, our vacuum cleaner, my oil diffuser, and about 60 bottles of essential oils. I was thinking I’d take the laptop over and play Pandora while I pre-clean, but then I remembered our wireless isn’t hooked up yet. Maybe I can dig up a radio somewhere.
As much as I despise moving – it really is one of my least favorite things on earth to do – I can’t help but be thrilled for the blank slate we are given with each new dwelling. We mentally arrange furniture, visualize colors, work towards a sense of cohesion with artwork and paint and textiles. Towards creating a flow, and a feeling of ease and comfort. Not that we’re any good at it, but we try. And after house-sitting for six months, it’s exciting to think about the treasures we will find when we start opening boxes. We’ll see our dishes again, the rich green Denby stoneware from our wedding registry. I still love it after 14 years. And our paintings. And family photographs. And our books! God, I can’t wait to put up our bookshelves.
With this move, we know the house itself won’t be our forever home, but it feels so good to just move down the street. To stay in our kids’ school district. We’re not starting new jobs, or moving to new cities, or pulling the kids away from their friends anymore. We’ll just be moving houses in the same town we already know. Our forever home of Blacksburg.
And even though our stay in this townhouse will be temporary – 2 years? 6 years? – we’re treating it like we’re going to be there a while, and I can’t wait to make it our own. To scent it with the natural warmth of cinnamon oil, or maybe the crispness of douglas fir, while I clean today. To fill it with music. To sweep off the porch for the arrival of our lives tomorrow.