End of an Era

My girls are moving out.

I'm not sure when yet . . . it could be as soon as March 1st. Then it will be just Leonard and I . . . and the boys. Who could forget the boys? Kairo and Jack will probably be the greatest source of comfort to me when I feel that need to nurture. But this is a marker time in my life, because the day my girls move out, things will never, ever be the same.

Now, I try to keep a positive attitude about this, and most the time I do a pretty good job. It's fun helping the girls get the things they need . . . especially for their kitchen. And I'm excited just because they are so excited. Having your first apartment is just an exciting time. But as I mentioned before, I'm extremely sentimental.

I remember so clearly the first morning we woke up in our new house. It was such an amazing feeling! The four of us had just come out of a very cramped apartment, and God had given us all we dreamed of and more in this new house. It had absolutely everything that was on our list of wants, plus things that had never even occurred to us (like the dead-end street, the sledding hill, the park...) That first morning, I went downstairs and sat on the couch, and even looking at all the boxes that needed unpacking all I could do was smile. I don't know how long I sat there, but I remember hearing a noise on the stairs. I looked over, and there were my two very little girls toddling down the stairs on their very first morning in their brand new house. And that was the moment. That was the moment I knew it was our home, and I'd never, ever want to live anywhere else.

Now here we are, what seems like a lifetime later. And yet it seems like yesterday they came down those stairs. I think this gives me a glimpse into the whole "a thousand years is like a day and a day is like a thousand years" thing. How can it seem so long ago and still seem so recent? And once again, I see all the memories flashing through my mind.

We have never lived in this house without our girls. I just don't see how it will feel right without them. And how I'll miss the laughter. Whether it's because of one of Leonard's two-room stories (so long it can't be finished in one room!) or one of our infamous no-one-understands-what-anyone-else-is-trying-to-say family discussions, the laughter brightens our souls. The girls are older now and although I know it's time for them to go, there will be two very empty spots at the table. Two painfully vacant places in the living room. Two-too-few girls to tuck in at night or make a comfy spot when they're sick. And our little Ellie . . . kisses and hugs have been ours for the asking, anytime day or night. And her entertainment has provided so many memories already. I'm at a loss. I don't really know how to deal with all these emotions. But deep down, I guess I'm glad I'm at such a loss.

Because it means we really have something worth missing.