I was hell bend on getting photos on this sofa in front of these windows again. One last time... Finn & I took some and they were fabulous. Then Finn, Fish & I did some more and they were marvelous. Those photos are some of my absolute favorites of all time. Did you notice the one more time? Yeah, our little family is closing up shop here in our little slice of heaven and moving out east. It's most definitely the right move of us. I know this in my head, but unfortunately, my heart just won't stop torturing me.
If there was only one thing that I could tell you about myself that represents the core of my being, I would have tell you "I'm a memory keeper..." If everyone had jobs in the village, some of be builders, hunters, chefs, tax collectors. I would be the keeper of memories. Smells remind me. A certain perfume that brings back memories of making an amazing friend. Songs remind me. A certain song that brings back memories of being pregnant for the first time and driving home to Iowa. Outfits remind me. I can tell you the exact outfit I wore when I found out I was pregnant both times, the exact outfit I wore on my first day of work, the exact outfit that Finn wore on her last day of preschool. Hell, even doing certain activities remind me. Yesterday, I trimmed the hedges for the last time and was reminded about how the morning I found out I was pregnant with Fish, I trimmed the hedges and smiled the whole time as every single car that morning didn't know the secret that I found out that morning.
E is always amazed at my memory for dates, outfits, times, and things that happened. But one side effect of being such a wonderful memory keeper is that when I remember, I get emotional. The only way that I can describe it is "I feel all the feelings". And thinking about leaving this house makes me feel all the feelings. The house is the place where I found out I was pregnant twice. This house is the place where I lost two of my babies (my cat, Harry Kit Kat and my dog, Bishop). This house is the place where I saw my babies take their first steps and say their first words. This house is the place where I made some amazing friends that will last forever. This house holds my story. It holds the absolute best years of my life.
This house was built in 1924 and has such character and charm while being modern at the same time. I love every nook and cranny of this place. And every nook and cranny holds a special memory (or five) for me. In fact, back in late March when we were discussing relocating, I was sitting here at the computer and looked in the living room. And I instantly started to cry. The sun was streaming through the living room windows at the perfect angle that instantly brought me back to my maternity leave with Finn and her laying in her pack-n-play in that beautifully soft streaming light of spring. And I cried because those moments of instant memories are fleeting for me. And I'm afraid that if I'm not constantly reminded of those memories that they are going to be lost in the fog of my brain.
I know that I'm bringing my most important memories makers with me -- my family. I know that we are going to make many more amazing and beautiful memories where we go. I know that this move is the best thing for us. But I can't help but be grief stricken as this move in a way represents the closing of a huge and amazing chapter in my life. I won't be reminded of amazing memories everywhere I go. In my perfect world, nothing would change, all would stay as it is forever. They say "every new beginnings comes from some other beginning's end." And we all know that I cry at endings.
This blog has been an amazing journal and memory keeper for me. I love looking through it and seeing photos and reading stories of when Finn was a tiny baby, of when Fish was born. It will help me keep the memories of this place and this time in my life alive. I am so thankful that I decided to start this place. When it started, I wrote for family and friends who weren't close to keep tabs on us. But little did I know that this was actually for me, that this place is my very own memory keeper.
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