Tonight's our last night here. The girls are all tucked in on the floor in our room since all their sheets and blankets are in boxes. I went into Emma's room to make sure everything got out, and shut the door behind me, suddenly feeling so very sad that I won't tuck her into her pink room again. I'll say goodbye to Audrey's room tomorrow morning (after I move the litter box out). Saying goodbye to our house is surprisingly hard.
But par for the day. I said goodbye to my friend Terri today. We spent the afternoon at the beach again--a wonderful, perfect afternoon full of sun and sand and finally some clouds and a cool breeze off the ocean. Then we had dinner with Uncle Jim and Aunt Susan and said goodbye to them too. I realize I really hate saying goodbye. I much prefer "See you soon."
When we first moved to San Diego I couldn't imagine it feeling like home. I missed Colorado, my family, my friends, and would have turned around to drive back the day after we arrived. Toben was diagnosed as bi-polar just after we arrived and our first year here was the hardest year I've had thus far. I've never felt more alone, more scared, more desperate than I did then. Life was strictly about surviving the moment before moving onto the next.
But once we made it through the crisis and healing began, our life here flourished. There's a verse in the book of Joel that says, "I will repay the years the locusts have eaten." After such a hard year, God has totally come through on that promise and made our last two years here so full, so vibrant, so incredible and good. He's made this place home.
All that's to say, now that I have the chance to do what I would've given anything to do at one time, I don't really want to go. I've had a painful lump in my throat since early this afternoon and I can't stop blinking to keep the tears in.
On the way home from dinner, I told Toben I hoped we were done saying goodbye. He responded, "Now we get to start saying 'Hello.'" Good point.