Packing away a life.

I always find myself a little disconcerted right before a move.

Just before, after everything is packed up. When every last knick-knack and piece of paper are all tidily boxed up, the mattresses are leaned up against the walls and the furniture is stacked, just waiting to be loaded on to a truck. I find myself somewhat floored. How is it that a whole life can so easily fit into a smattering of cardboard boxes? Are all these things that mean so much to me, my personal talismans, really, at the end of the day, just stuff? The boxes break the illusion of home, I guess. And when I walk among them, it just all seems so strange that I garner so much comfort, so much of my sense of family and self, from what can be so easily stowed away.

Later today, the movers will come and leave Munchkin and me to a completely empty house. And with that knowledge, finally, I am starting to feel a little sad about our departure. I've fought so long and hard to get out of here, just with all of the Army's current transformation madness, that now that I can catch my breath, I remember that my husband and reunited after his last deployment in this house. Our beloved dog passed away here. Our son was born here. We made friends here. We watched the sunset as we drank wine in the backyard. Our kid morphed from a little baby into a full-on little boy here. We laughed and played and danced and rested and fought and made-up and blessed and cursed this way of life in which we've found ourselves all within these four walls. When there's so little history in any one place as a military family, I find myself futilely clutching at these memories right before a PCS.

And then there's the other thing. That other big thing breathing down my neck which I've neglected to really pay attention to amidst the other madness. The deployment. My new home will be the one where my husband leaves us. I think I already dislike it a bit just because of that.

But even as I am saddened to leave, I also find myself anxious to start this new adventure of ours, to see what the future and this new duty station holds for us. If we can manage even a quarter of the happiness we've had here, I'd say we're pretty well off.