Roving Cooks

We are in the final couple days of living in our sweet Madison home, and there are so many feels.

Satisfied and Proud: I think we’ve well used the opportunity to put clothes and other items that we’ve physically or emotionally outgrown back out into the universe. I’ve been so proud of our kids. Under Aunt Christine’s direction, they sorted dozens if not hundreds of books and categorized: bring in the RV (favorite), store for later, or give to another kid. If one of the last 2 categories, they had to agree; if either voted “favorite”, then it went in the RV box. While most went in the favorite box (i.e., we’ll do another pass through in a couple weeks to see what can actually make it in the RV), a good volume of books and some toys went into the “give to other kids” pile.

Reflective: Taking the lead from Marie Kondo, I’ve put a focus on saying “thank you” to the things that have served us so well. I’ve breathed in and out, allowing myself to be simultaneously sad for the passage of time and grateful for the moment to relive prior joy. That neon green “dinosaur” winter coat with orange spikes on the hood that Grayson wore for 2+ winters deserves to be out in the world, as a bright beacon on a gray day, visible on a kid running a football field away.

Warm: In the process, it’s be a delight to rediscover gems out of sentimental boxes through a new lens, to laugh, and to put them back in the treasure box to be found again in a few years. Like a letter my parents wrote to Syracuse University before I attended where Dad wisely hoped that my “advisors guide [me] in choosing courses that will allow [me] to broaden [my] knowledge, yet finish in four years.” A card from Greg’s grandpa to him when he was a kid with a fantastic joke inscribed and quickly reincarnated with Grayson and Madelyn (“Greg, does your face feel alright? because it’s killing me!”). Hundreds of photos from the last 30+ years. Notes of gratitude that brought warm feelings then and now; with a gentle reminder that writing and sharing that little note of appreciation can mean so much.

Nostalgic: Inside the walls, in every corner, live memories of love and happiness; and a few pleas to “just (let me) sleep a little longer” or “quiet down, please.” Grayson taking his first steps with the walker from Aunt Christine. Newborn Madelyn snoozing with Grandma on the couch. All of us snoozing on the couch. Grandparents, Aunts/Uncles, Cousins from both sides of our families drinking cocktails and coffee over Christmas and hanging out in the backyard for birthday parties. Luna napping on “her” chair, the floor, and back on the couch after a “crazy Luna!” run around the yard. Making s’mores in the living room fireplace on a cold February afternoon or in the backyard firepit in the fall. Greg digging up hundreds of day lilies so that we could have a backyard firepit. Perhaps not so much nostalgia for that last one.

So, fully aware that I’m writing this with thick rose colored glasses, and with optimism for the future, I’d like to raise a toast:

• To our neighbors: thank you for exemplifying the term. For being friendly, helpful, and accommodating of our extroverted kids knocking on your doors and running through your yards.
• To the future owner of our house: I hope that living here brings you great happiness.
• To our house: thanks for the memories. May you get the 21st century windows that you deserve.
• To us: may we remember that home is where we are, together. May we find joy in our upcoming adventure, and when we are ready to land again, may we have good fortune (perhaps a buyers’ market?)
• To our family and friends: thank you for your enthusiasm and support as we take embark on this giant leap.