Am taking a brief nursing break from packing boxes so thought I would one-handedly write some thoughts on moving, I have moved house more times than I can remember (I lived in three states by the time I was two) and, although the packing gets more streamlined (kinda) it still always makes me sad. It is exciting because its the start of something new, but it is always the end of something too, Sitting here in the room where our baby was born and knowing that after tomorrow I will never sit in this room again is especially emotional.
It is an important lesson that I am always learning, but never finished with- all of the physical stuff in our life goes away, and having emotional attachments to it only brings us sadness and a feeling of trying to hold onto things that goes away. I will always always have my daughter, and will always carry the feeling of birthing her and the joy of meeting her for the first time, and whether or not I sit in these four walls again will make no difference to the strength and importance of that memory. So we pack in the reverse order to which we unpacked, and tomorrow morning will be left with only a mattress and coffee making facilities, like our first nights here.
And it is impossible to be completely sad, because new adventures are right around the corner.