Wagons Ho!

I've moved.  It's done.  It took two weekends, a 26 foot moving van, two 12 foot trailers and a car dolly. 

I'm now 95 years old.  A couple days ago I was 110.  That was after moving stuff from 7:00 am to 8:00 pm and a night sleeping on the floor.  The second weekend in Salem we had an air mattress  (we planned ahead!)  uh.. problem was that the air mattress was NOT the full sized one I thought I had but a twin mattress.  And we didn't have a proper blanket.  Two grown-ups on a twin sized air mattress with a towel and a lap blanket.  Not pretty (but still better than the floor).

The house was empty and I sat down at the top of the stairs.  My mind wandered over the past 7 years.   It sort of felt like the season finale of Cheers or *MASH* where they showed flashbacks of the highlights from the life of the show. 

My house highlights included my mom's adventures, Halloween parties, game nights, Peter, the guinea pigs, the dogs, the cats, Christmas trees, flooring, laughter and tears... and oh so much more.  I'm afraid I could not leave without adding a few more tears to the memories.

I also need to mention, during the first moving weekend I attended my son's wedding.  If I viewed the event as an outsider it was quite lovely.  The ceremony was short and heartfelt.  Everyone had a good time.  It was very nice.  As a mother who thinks her son is too young to make this move and felt very much left out of the whole thing, my feelings where very mixed.  Ultimately, of course, I wish him nothing but happiness and peace in his future - especially if it means I can't say "I told you so."