I sent this as an email to a friend and I liked the way it turned out so much that I decided to repost it here. Keep in mind this was immediately after all the stuff was taken away so I was feeling a little melancholy...
So we are all moved out. The post pack out empty house is always so sad. There is all this dust (and dog hair) and sometime the ghosts of pictures on the wall. I'm sitting in my empty house all alone and trying very hard not to move my head because if I sit very still I can pretend that nothing has changed (the furniture stays with the place, only the trimmings are gone).
The empty house that you are leaving is so different from the empty house when you arrive. When you first get to post, bleary eyed from the plane ride, the empty house is cold, strange. There are corners in unexpected places, new doors to learn, and a host of minor annoyances to get used to. The house you are leaving, is warm and comfortable. The doors and windows known from thousands of glances, the quirks figured out, but the drawers empty of their familiar usefulness. When you are leaving there is the lingering sadness of good times, and the gentle sound of a chapter closing. When you are arriving the air is heavy with the fear of the unknown and the hopes that you have for this space.
This life is full of so many comings and goings, as babes gets older it is going to get even harder as it will not just be my ghosts in a place, but hers as well....
