Leaving Home

I just realized what is bothering me so much about moving. We're losing our "family history." People here know us, but they also KNEW us. Our babies were their babies and theirs are ours. We've all laughed and cried together through every stage of childhood. We've seen them learn to drive, graduate, go to college and get married. We've even welcomed a "grandbaby" or two! We've sent some on missions, we've sent some to Kindergarten, we've waved as they left on first dates or learned to ride a Big Bike. We carpool, we hang out, we laugh and cry and pray for each other. We've had late-night calls for humidifiers or urgent requests to pick up a child who needs stitches. We get invited to each other's family events and people there know who we are. The kids know whose house has the freezer full of Otter Pops, where to stash the scooters when they're having an airsoft war, whose Mom has the cool band-aids or which friend has the biggest dress-up box. We know who we could call for anything, anytime. We Moms know when to just drop off a pizza and a Coke or who will pick up an extra gallon of milk at Costco. The Dads know who to call when they need help fixing a sink or someone to bring the bait. We've seen each other through hard times and rejoiced together over victories. I have "my girls" and they have my back. We are BFFEAE (ask Goose). A house is just a place to sleep, it's the people around you who make a place "home." Today, I don't want to go!