We are moving.
It is not what we expected or planned – but it is necessary.
Capacity has been reached.
These little children need to stretch their skinny legs on grass that they can call their own. It feels like neglect to withhold that any longer.
Grass must be mown.
Flower beds designed and planted.
Swings, slide, trampoline, treehouse all purchased and built.
Oh to let their energy run wildly about a place we call home! With no need to escape the house by 10am. To open the back door and let them run wild, with no fear of only having walls to climb, sofas to jump on and toys to hurl.
So we move.
It is a cocktail of emotion. But the base flavour is relief.
I do not want to leave our street; our community; the open-doored, open-hearted policy that prevails on this road. The standard set by the wonderful, sharp-tongued, crochet-clothed matriarch of the street who secretly leaves parcels of pickled goods and all sorts of goodies on chosen doorsteps. She has nurtured the neighbourliness of this road for 50 years as many have come and gone, and I feel sad that I shall join the departed. A sense of betrayal. But I must be selfish. For my family. For their needs. Relationships and community do not disappear due to a change in geography. These will remain even if it involves a car drive and a bit more intention or logistics.
We need change.
We are no more a family of two – we are five. And we have squeezed the life out of our home. Every nook and cranny is used up. It is time to pass it on to someone who can treasure it as we have and breathe new life into tired spaces.
So we set off on this adventure – the house sold, a new one on the way. We live in limbo now with my parents, but glimpses of new possibilities glint at us on the horizon. The thought of garden, storage, storage, and more storage, utility room, child-free room, and off street parking fill me with excitement. I am becoming the middle-aged, suburbia-living woman that I used to dread! But priorities change. What is best for the children is also best for us. Happy times of oodles of storage lie ahead for me! The thought that this organisation freak will be able to plan and place things, rather than dump them in a ‘cupboard of doom’ brightens my day.
Yes, I know… times change!
I have changed.
So we move.
I could no longer just sit as pressure drew in on us from all sides.
I will not be crushed any longer. We have reached our crossroads. It was not quite the plan, but it is a step forward. It is time for something fresh. With sorrow we have given up the beautiful house that our babies were born into, but it is time for a new season. It is daunting. It is unknown. It is exciting. It is refreshing. It is hopeful.
They say ‘he who dares wins’. We are daring.