in 2 weeks. ummm… yeah. two weeks from now movers will arrive and pack up all of the junk that paul and i (and now jackson) have accumulated in the nearly 3 years we have been in this house. our house… our first house… our bungalow… ((((tear)))) why on earth am i feeling nostalgic about this? i have been sooooo ready to leave jacksonville for a while now. soooo ready for paul to have a change of scenery, a change of perspective, just a change damnit! i’m used to moving… growing up i moved every few years. and it’s been a few here in jacksonville, so let’s peace out. atleast that was how i was thinking about this until i told a dear friend our news on the phone last night. i listened to my friend tear up, and though she cries often (and i love her for it), i realized that my news was making her cry. i was making my friend upset… and my heart hurt. jacksonville has been good to us. the people in jacksonville, the friends we have made and the friends we came here with have been good to us. but time marches on, i suppose. jackson will never remember being here… he won’t remember his first room, or the creaky noises the old wood floors make when we tip toe around, trying not to wake him. he won’t remember mommy walking out to the shed to clean his poopy laundry because the washer and dryer are out there and not in our house. jackson won’t remember 2813 lydia street… and that’s ok. he’s not supposed to. we are. paul and i have our precious memories in our first house stored away in a safe and secret vault we keep in our hearts. moving in from our apartment just 4 blocks away… sarah and i landscaping the front yard (my body has never hurt so badly)… my dad painting my favorite florida room… lily’s first birthday party… grandpa jack (jackson’s namesake) trying to figure out the old wiring… mom cooking and freezing casserole’s before jackson’s arrival… paul fixing the cabinet in our 1 bathroom every time i yank too hard and the door comes off… getting red 3 days before paul left for japan… bringing jackson home from the hospital, our family complete. i guess that’s why it’s called moving. people are constantly moving- from one place to another, one state of mind to another, one room to another. it happens. in the meantime, i’ll store my nostalgia away for a bit, lock it up and keep it safe for another day when i feel like being a silly sap.