This is the week we move. Just a few miles away. Onto three glorious acres. I can’t wait to meet all of the trees.

To host s’more parties and craft parties and retreat times. To sit on the deck and look at the stars. The bright, twinkling, abundant stars.

Of course, there is still the packing. Boxes and boxes and, come Thursday morning, a big truck to fill. And there is a basement to finish. And our current house to sell.

The anxiety is mixed with the excitement. The grief of leaving a house I love swirls amidst the joy of going to a house I expect to love more.

It’s kind of hard to sleep. And not much time to write. Because I really should be packing boxes.