bittersweet

I am sitting on the couch right now watching my belly dance around as the baby moves.... and we are packing up a majority of our things tomorrow, and getting ready to move in with Matt's parents. We want to be settled somewhere before this little one arrives (unless she comes tonight?! Probably not). So Matt and I were talking about some of the things we remember about living here, this little nugget of a home that I am going to miss so much. That the next person who lives here will not know - or just may not understand. The exact pattern of steps you need to take to cause as minimal creaking as possible between Ruby's room and ours at night. The spot in our backyard that housed a yellow jacket nest this summer which my husband waged war on, and WON, tarp, K-state rock, ski face mask and all. The way the sun comes in and shines on the green chair that we sit in and read to Ruby in, and how "Goodnight Moon" is actually referred to as "good morning" around here, and everybody knows what that means, and knows the words by heart at this point. The way a new spider pops out of somewhere every day needing to be taken care of. The way Ruby watches for Matt from the front window at the end of the day as he comes home from work. The way Matt and I live with a greater degree of confidence knowing that Mark, our neighbor two houses down, knows the comings and goings of everything and everybody on our street and is keeping an eye out for us. The way the pear tree in front of our house takes a blessedly long time to color and lose its leaves in the fall. The way I moved in here the night of our wedding, and it has since become our home. The way we brought our sweet girl home from the hospital here. I love this house.