Get a Grip Ma

I had this whole post written earlier that was quite melancholy. I was reflecting on how hard it was to move with kids. You know, restart with new friends, new doctors, new neighbors, schools blah, blah, blah. I was bereft as the movers took MY stuff out of MY house and began the journey to someone else’s State. It was not my one of my finer moments when I locked myself in the barren office, set my laptop on the floor and typed and cried while my children giggled at nickjr.com right outside the door.

Then the movers left with the last box and I loaded the Circus into the Caravan and headed to IHOP to celebrate their great behavior during the day as mommy was slowly unraveling. I was still melancholy as we pulled away from Whitmoor. In the back the kids were over-the-moon. All three were so excited at the prospect of pancakes for dinner, that they didn’t even notice the fact that they were leaving their home for the last time.

That’s when it hit me-home isn’t four walls or even a neighborhood for that matter. Home is where the people you love reside. I know my sisters are reading this and thinking, well what about us jerk? We reside in Maryland? This is true. The bulk of my loved ones, family and friends, live within 20 miles of my old house. I will miss all of them with an ache that I still don’t know the depths of yet. But it doesn’t matter because my home is where the Circus resides. Earlier tonight home was the Caravan and all the laughter and silliness it contained.

Right now, home is the basement of my in-laws’ tiny Cape Cod. (Because it wouldn’t be a King family move without a little time spent in the basement of Matthews Lane.) All my bunnies are tucked into ONE bed and I sit right outside their door typing away. It’s not my house. These are not my things around me. There isn’t even digital cable.:) But, I’m right outside the door of three of the most important pieces of my world. No matter the four walls, I am home.