Moving Day has finally arrived. I promised myself that I wouldn't feel sad, but I do.
The sight of my son's purple preschool hat lying in a bag of rubbish by the door was more than I could bear.
I realised, then, why I feel sad.
It's not because of this house, or this stuff.
It's because of the time that I'll never get back again. While my children were busy growing up, my husband and I were busy working (sometimes 3 jobs at a time), studying, and preoccupied with making ends meet, and paying for this house. Years just seemed to fly by, without us even realising.
All I remember from these past few years, is a feeling of being stressed and exasperated with my children. Didn't they know I was busy and had so much to do? Couldn't they just go and play quietly and leave me in peace? Sure, I would give them my full attention, just as soon as I finished this really important thing..."
But there was always another Really Important Thing waiting to be done...
As they say: "The days are long, but the years are short". Surely, every mother perfectly understands this seemingly contradictory statement.
I sneak back and salvage the little purple hat from the rubbish bag, and promise myself that the future will be different....
PS. Along these lines, my husband and I have made a really radical, potentially life-changing decision. I will write about it soon, when I've managed to get my head around the enormity of it :-)