So life has been very busy indeed. Every morning I wake up and it's the same thing: I go from basement to first floor to second floor to attic, then back down again, only to repeat the process about a hundred times during the course of the day. These treks up and down the stairs are broken up by quick trips to the recycling center and Goodwill. Fun times!
I must say, it has been interesting looking into boxes and bins that have languished, all but forgotten, for ten or even twenty years--and sometimes longer. And it has also been exhausting, both emotionally and physically.
A little while ago, I met up with my husband in the family room on the first floor. While I've been relentlessly culling through the flotsam and jetsam of a long life well-lived, he has been busy working on all kinds of projects that we promised to complete before closing, such as the renovation of the master bathroom.
But I caught him as he was sitting on the couch. Not resting, mind you; he was making one of the countless phone calls one needs to make in order for a move to happen smoothly. I dragged myself over to my overstuffed chair and plopped down, and when he got off the phone I channeled my inner Jack Pearson and complained (somewhat pathetically), "This house is breaking me. I'm broken." (Please tell me that you watch "This Is Us," and that you remember the scene where Jack tells the OB/GYN who delivered their triplets that the babies have broken his wife Rebecca. If you aren't a fan of this show, I'm not sure that we can be friends...)
Things like this backpack that belonged to our oldest son, for instance, which I found yesterday in the attic. In one of the small zippered compartments, there were a bunch of empty fun-size candy bar wrappers.
Along with the evidence of his trip snacks, there was also still an airline bag-check tag attached, showing that when he last used this backpack he'd been flying to Chicago in January of 2002.
But to look around our attic, you'd think we had a houseful of little fellas living here still. I found the metal tray we used to serve our boys breakfast in bed on their birthdays.
I also found plastic bins of legos, complete with the step-by-step building instructions.
Perhaps you'd think we had a passel of teenaged lacrosse players living in this house as well, judging by the bins of old equipment still carefully stowed away in the basement. (Those are old heads ready to be re-strung, lying on top of some stringing materials. I guess the boys never got around to fixing them up.)
We used to ski a lot back in the day, too. When our four oldest sons were young, we would take a yearly ski vacation over their winter break with some of their Pearl cousins; and during the five years that we homeschooled our youngest son, he participated in a ten-week program where he skied in NH every Monday with a group of homeschooled friends. That was us, and we still have ski equipment in the attic to prove it.
This is us now. The big five has multiplied, and we wouldn't want it any other way. It's like we're "new and improved."
Okay now, before I sign off: it's Tuesday, and you know what that means, right? "This Is Us" is on. (NBC, 9:00.) I'm going to just ignore the bare walls, the empty shelf, and the boxes of files on the family room floor and enjoy it. Join me, won't you?