Moving Day

Today is move in day for our last two children.  Jamie moves into her new apartment and Mary Grace moves into her dorm at Carson Newman.  Our house will be empty by this afternoon for the first time in 28 years.  It seems like a blur.  We have had a great summer together.  Bonnaroo, Montana and Pawleys Island were just three of the highlights of the summer.

What will Molly and I be like?  Do we even know each other?  We have served our children for 28 years and are looking forward to a time to focus once again on each other.  I’ve been cautioned to enjoy the break because next comes spouses and grandchildren.

None the less, I thought this poem by Bob Benson would be appropriate for today.

by Bob Benson

I pass a lot of houses
on my way home.
Some pretty,
some expensive,
some inviting.

But my heart always skips a beat
when I turn down the road
and see my house
nestled against the hill.

I guess I’m especially proud
of the house
and the way it looks
because I drew the plans myself.
It started out large enough for us–
I even had a study;
two teenage boys
now reside in there.
And it had a guest room;
my girl and nine dolls
are permanent guests.
It had a small room
Peg had hoped
would be her sewing room,
the two boys swinging
on the Dutch door
have claimed this room as their own.
So it really doesn’t look right now
as if I’m much of an architect.
But it will get larger again.

One by one they will go away–
to work, to college,
to service,
to their own houses.
And then there will be room–
a guest room, a study,
and a sewing room–
just for the two of us.

But it won’t be empty.
Every corner, every room,
every nick in the coffee table
will be crowded
with memories.
Memories of picnics,
parties, Christmases,
bedside vigils, summers,
fires, winters, going barefoot,
leaving for vacation, cats,
conversations, black eyes,
graduations, first dates,
ball games, arguments,
washing dishes, bicycles,
dogs, boat rides,
getting home from vacation,
meals, rabbits,
and a thousand other things
that fill the lives
of those who would raise five.

And Peg and I
will sit quietly by the fire
and listen to the
laughter in the walls.