Monday, August 27, 2012

The Exodus

Today I was packing my son's room for our move. I had a basket of laundry to take to the basement. While I was down there I glanced at the wood shelving I have in my laundry room. You can see the pencil marks defacing the white paint . Those marks represent the growth of my sons since we moved in this house. (I never measured our daughter because she was done growing when we moved here)  And each of those marks tells a story, but just part of our story. 

As we make our exodus from our current enslavement of consumerism and convenience we are still sad leaving this place we have had many memories. We need to keep on writing in that book of life, writing wonderful moments shared together as a family.  I dream about them at night as a lay in bed with my husband. He is already well off into sleep but i lay there wondering what this new home has in store for us. 

I tell my youngest son that a home is where your family is, it's not a place. I tell him this for two reasons, to comfort him and to comfort myself. 

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