Moving Day

So, as many of you know, last week we moved out of the house we lived in for ten years. As moving day approached, I braced myself for the weight of the emotions that were bound to pour over me as we left our home and closed a very significant chapter in our lives. After all, the hubs and I were single, skinny, and kind of selfish and set in our ways when we moved into that house. It was in this house that we learned to dance the married couple dance (I still stumble here and there and step on his toes); where we first took on the joint responsibility of caring for a living thing, our precious dog, together; and, game-changers of all game-changers, where we embarked on the journey of raising our children, the absolute joys of our entire lives, together. This place was ground zero and we had zero days left to live there.

I snapped every photo I could, I took a long, hard look at every corner, noticing things I never noticed before. (That fixture in the hallway was really ugly…) I savored each final moment in the house of beginnings, knowing that this place and the time we spent here was special, sacred even, and how the experiences we had there forever changed us.

On the morning of the move, I planned out the entire day. The kids and dog were with Gram and Pop, so the movers could easily come and truck all our non-essential belongings into storage until the new house was done, we would pick up the kids and the dog, take a final swim in the pool, order pizza from our favorite place, eat dinner on our cherished deck one last time, take a family hike on our special trail one more time, clean up, pack up, drive by the kids’ beloved train tracks, and drive off into the sunset, ready to see what the next chapter of our lives would bring. See? In true teacher fashion, I had it All. Planned. Out.


Well, that’s not exactly how things went down, except for maybe the pizza. The movers ran late, the pool turned green overnight, the house took forever to clean, the kids were tired, my husband and I starting fighting when we realized no one packed the coat closet, and suffice it to say, the sun set without us romantically driving into it. Instead, we scrambled to finish packing and cleaning, crammed too much crap into the van, only to realize we didn’t leave room for the dog and had to call my niece (she’s a God send) to help transport stuff, buckled crying and overtired kids into their car seats, and made a 10 p.m. pit stop at Xtra-Mart because we were all dying of thirst. As we chugged our drinks, I expected the wave of emotion to engulf me. It never did. Instead, my son simply said “Bye, housey. We love you. Can we go to the lake and see Gram and Pop now?” And that was that. Really.

As time goes by and I occasionally drive by our old house, certain features and fond memories tug at little bits and pieces of my heart. But, at the end of the day, home is where the people you love are, and those people live at the lake now. While we will cherish the special time in our old house, we, now a party of five, are ready for our chapter with Gram and Pop.



About Becky Jha

Born and raised in rural Connecticut , Becky DeMattia-Jha attended Salve Regina University in Newport, RI, and has her M.Ed. She has been teaching high school English for 15 years and currently resides in Massachusetts with her husband, their two children, and their German Shepherd. She spends her precious summer vacations indulging in passions other than literature: serving as a lactation peer coach, practicing herbal medicine, organic gardening, making natural cleansers and cosmetics, and preparing quick and easy organic recipes for her family. She hopes to share her efficient, chemical-free, eco-conscious, frugal, and simplistic homemaking and homesteading tips with you.

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