First of all- wahoo! The last day of the challenge! I am pretty proud of myself for sticking with it for an entire month. Sure, I missed two days, but I still consider my run with this challenge pretty darn successful. While this was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be when I first began, it was also more enjoyable than I thought it would be. As a fairly new blogger, I think this was a good exercise for me to get into more of a writing/blogging groove here. I will definitely need a bit of a break, but in general, I think I've gained a lot of momentum and motivation to keep on with this little blog baby of mine.
Now... for a vivid memory...
When I first began thinking about my response, I immediately shuffled through childhood memories. But since I kind of already did that here, I thought I would do a more recent memory. Does it count if this memory is even less than a year old? The moment that I'm thinking of is something that is still very fresh in my memory, but it is a something that I always want to remember. In fact, during the time this event was actually happening, I remember thinking how important this time and this memory would be. The memory I'm referring to is the memory of my last day in Houston before my big move to Australia.
It was August 29, 2012. David had already made the move to Australia mid-July. We had decided that I would stay behind for a while to take care of some things with selling our house and cars and also to have some time to visit my family and friends before the move. My amazing mom had been in town since August 25 helping me manage packing the house, packing my bags, dealing with movers, helping keep me sane, and just being the best company I could ask for during this very stressful and emotional time. However, my mom had left the day before (at my request). For some reason, I felt like I would be a lot sadder to have my mom there on the day that I was actually leaving. So I spent my last night alone in a hotel, since our house had been packed the day before and was now completely empty.
It was a strange feeling to wake up that morning knowing how momentous (at least in my mind) the day ahead would be. At that point, part of me was just ready to stop thinking about moving to the other side of the world and just go already and be done with the anticipation and nerves. I was also more than ready to be reunited with my husband and begin this next chapter of our lives. But the other part of me, of course, was scared, sad, nervous, and sentimental. For some reason, I thought my time that morning would be well spent getting a manicure and a pedicure, but after I did that I really was beginning the countdown of my last few hours in Houston.
I returned the rental car, since Hans, my VW Passat had been sold a few weeks prior.
I rode in silence as the rental company representative drove me back to our house where I had left my luggage earlier that morning.
I opened the little black gate to our front yard.
I walked through the front door of our very first home for the very last time.
And that's where I sat for the next 2 hours.
|My view from my seat on the floor.|
I probably could have made this whole "last day experience" a lot less emotional for myself by avoiding this whole part, but for some reason I made myself do this.
I walked slowly through our home, stopping in each room to take a few last photos and to think about all the memories made in each space during our short 1.5 years there.
I finally settled onto the floor (every last piece of furniture was gone), sitting in the sun in the bay window at the front of our house.
Alone. With just my thoughts.
This was the time I was referring to before. The time when I thought to myself that this would probably be one of those moments that would always be a really important memory for me.
Time passed quickly and before I knew it, my taxi was honking from outside, waiting to take me to the airport.
I quickly lugged my bags outside the door, waved to the taxi driver, and signaled to him that I would be just a moment more.
I turned and went back in the house... one... last... time.
I could feel my eyes starting to burn with tears, so I said a little goodbye, took a deep breath, stepped outside, then finally shut and locked the door one last time.
I was supposed to have the taxi driver stop by my aunt's house to drop the key in her mailbox so she could give it to our realtor. But I changed my mind and had him just head straight to the airport. By that point, I was just done with goodbyes. And aside from that, I had decided that I wanted to keep that key as a memory of that moment and of our first home.
I took one last look back at the house, then turned around as I could physically feel a very distinct time of my life ending and another new, scary, but exciting part of my life beginning.
I don't think I've ever had a moment so symbolic of the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.
Catch up with my "Blog Every Day in May" challenge here:
Day 5 (Oops! :-/ I did blog on day 5, just not following the prompt...)
Day 20 (I broke my streak- I missed this day...)
Day 27 (So mad that I missed another one... and SO close to the end)