Small

We moved yesterday, amidst a flurry of boxes and dog hair, dragging our bedraggled assortment of possessions in our wake. It was a long day and an exhausting day in many different respects. As much as I welcome change, I also resist it; fear it.

I had a lump in my throat as we drove away for the last time. I turned my head to look out at the ocean and I couldn’t figure out why I felt so sad.

We made so many memories in this town. We will have so much to remember. We’ve moved a lot over the past seven years and it’s been no secret that this last house was never my favorite but when you have a ginormous dog you quickly realize that your rental options become quite limited.

Its tiny rooms felt stifling at times, but they will always hold a special place in my heart because it was in this house that we became a family. 

Olive will never remember this house, but when she is older and looking through photos, she will see pictures of the space we created for her when she was just a baby. I’ll show her pictures of our room with her crib beside our bed. I will tell her how I used to crawl between the sheets late at night after I finished writing, and how lucky I felt that I got to fall asleep listening to her little snores, my face buried in Papa’s back. 

When she watches the video of Gus meeting her for the first time,  it will be our front yard, our tiny porch in the background.

When I talk about how I used to walk her to sleep as a newborn, it will be down the hallway of this house, my tired footsteps echoing over these creaky, uneven tiles.

I’ve spoken many times about my hunger for space. Being so confined has made me lust for open floor plans and light, airy rooms where you don’t feel closed in and shuttered. But if we buy a house- when we buy a house-I hope that it’s not too big. I hope that our rooms aren’t too far apart.

I hope we can keep her crib across from our bed for a few more months. I hope that I can be lucky enough to keep falling asleep to her light snuffly snores, my face buried in Adam’s back. 

Oh little house, I won’t miss you, but I will always, always remember you.