Oh, where to begin?
We're here, in our new townhouse in the mountains of New York, listening to the wind blow and wondering where we packed our underwear. Good stuff :)
The move was amazing. I think I'd lost track of how good it feels to let other people help. Sounds ridiculous, right? But I'm rather independent, and that--combined with a strange worry I have about not wanting to bother or inconvenience anyone--led me to build a life where there aren't many situations in which I need to ask for help. But moving all of our stuff out of a third floor condo? There's no way I could pull that off on my own. (Ditto for moving stuff into a three floor townhouse).
So we asked. And I was simply flabbergasted by how generous our friends were with their time, effort and (let's be honest) muscle. Moving out felt a bit like one of those impossible challenges on The Biggest Loser, where teams go up and down stairs endlessly trying to complete the task. Turns out we have more stuff than we remembered, and our friend MacGyver Man stayed in the truck doing all manner of miracles to fit everything together, creating a puzzle that might have earned him a PhD in geometric problem solving had we thought to take pictures.
Then, the next day, after eight hours on the road--Steve in the giant truck, THAT DOG and I following in the car, the two of us communicating by walkie-talkies I picked up at Target (which, it turns out, are WAY more fun to use when you're a grown up), we arrived in Ithaca. And a team of people--some we'd met before, some who only heard we were coming and wanted to welcome us and help--pulled in one by one and moved us in. It was amazing, and humbling, and one of those experiences I'll remember for a long, long time. Sitting around afterwards, eating pizza and comparing notes on where to buy food, register a car, and get a great deal on a washing machine, I thought, "This feels like home..." And it does.
I'm a tired, but grateful girl :)