You never know how moving to a new home is going to impact you until you do it. For me, it was a little more unexpected than what I had thought... I didn't expect to be sad.
It was Saturday afternoon that we started to make the big move from our little one-bedroom apartment in The Village to our new home in North Dallas. Nice, brown boxes in all shapes and sizes were being moved down the stairs, furniture was being loaded, dollies with boxes piled high were being pulled, and our happy helping movers kept going up and down, up and down the stairs with cheery smiles on their faces until the last box was loaded. I might have been smiling on the outside, but inside there was a big lump settling in my throat. I was sad. Sure, I was glad to be moving to a wonderful new home that would give us more space to do the things we love to do, but on the other hand....I was sad to go. That apartment had been Matthew's and my first home together, it had been the first place I had learned to cook for the two us (or make that burn or undercook!), it had been the place I first learned to keep house, do our budget, and have a party. I had made those white walls into a home...and by living there a year and a half we had created a million little memories for the two of us. I'm not going to be sad long, but for now...I'm glad for the sadness. It means that was home.