Moving Day

Tomorrow the moving van comes. The careful and caring people who will be here to take our stuff have moved us four times. They know us; we know them. I’m not at all worried about everything getting to its destination in one piece. I’m a teensy bit worried about myself not arriving in one piece but I think I’ll be okay.

As we prepare for the big day, I recall our neighbors of many years ago who, with their small children, left their old house for a new life in a new town. As they were locking the door for the last time, their six-year old son turned to his mother and asked: “Mommy, where’s the mouth on the house?”

She asked why he wanted to know. There was a simple answer. He wanted to kiss it goodbye.

Where’s that box of tissues when I need it?

Moving van image thanks to