Things About Moving:
The hardest part about moving with James is the fact that he will frequently stop what he's doing and make me listen to a poem from a book he's about to pack. Ugh, poets.
Edie woke up one night in the midst of moving with a fever, 101.6. As I took her out of her sleep sack, it felt like her little legs were on fire. She was alert, but kind of floppy, and I woke James up to gather the thermometer, ibprofen, and a cold compress (thanks, Silvia, most efficient strategy ever). I held her in my lap as we waited, and she reached up and patted my face saying, "don't be scared, mom", like the biggest creep ever, because it was 3 am and she was burning up and I was like, "wait, should I be scared? what do you know that I don't?".
I caught a cold a some point, which was lame on a lot of levels, but the worst part about it was not being able to smell the morning air as it drifted in my window. Winchester has the crisp morning air that I always associate with vacation or summer camp, and it was one of my favorite things about living in Massachusetts. I was sad to lose it earlier than I had to.
I think if you've done anything right, every goodbye is a hard one, even ones you think you're ready to make. It's no secret that moving to Boston was a difficult transition for me, but leaving it was distinctly bittersweet. I didn't go out much that last week or so, partly because I was busy packing, but partly (largely) because I didn't love being anywhere more than my own backyard--eating popsicles with Edie, watering plants, and laying flat on the small rise of the lawn and staring up at the sky. Outdoor spaces are always hard for me to part with, and this one--cool, green, quiet--felt like a gift. Like a gift to me, but, more heartbreaking to leave, like a gift I could give to Edie each summer.