Packing has a way of slowly removing the home of your house. It takes time, lots of time and energy and physical labor. It's a labor of love for your family and a labor of undoing love for your home. With each box, another goodbye. With each drawer, hidden treasures and disregarded junk. Pieces of time that lasted and dust of time that passed.
The walls or drawers that once seemed so badly placed, now seem so dear and filled with life as each moment looks more like the last little bit in the hour glass.
I have a hard time believing that anyone ever loved a house the way I have loved our home.
Because you see that house has watched the five of us fall in love.
My favorite love story had four and a half solid years in that house.
And now it's hollow and waiting for the next story to fill it's walls with life.