Adam asked me that over the phone. And I just took another deep breath.
This is what the past week has been. If it can't fit in the jeep, and it's not super important, toss it.
Even if it is super important to me, it might end up in the toss pile.
The amount of stuff we've donated is unreal. I'm not one to get attached to stuff, but it feels like I'm donating pieces of my life here. Because I am. Boxes and boxes of kitchen stuff, art supplies, decorations, bedding, frames, candles, lamps. You name it. I've probably given it away in the last 6 days.
And it's exhausting.
Because each day as we pack up or donate a piece of the life we built here, I'm also saying goodbye to someone. And it feels so belittling of relationships to offer an hour here or an hour there as a final goodbye. And I'm the first to admit that we didn't do a good job establishing roots here, but there was definitely a deposit made in the last almost 4 years.
And I'm running out of steam.
The hard part about leaving this place is we're headed down a road marked with uncertainty. We don't know where we'll land. We don't have a specific plan. We don't know much. So as my girls said their final goodbyes last night, one of them said, "I hope this move is worth it!" And I wanted to collapse because it's the thought that's been in my head and my heart for the last few weeks.
I know we want to be around family. I know the depth of relationships waiting for us back home is far greater than what we're leaving behind. I know this is the best choice for our family. I do know it will be worth it in the long run.
But it's still a struggle.
Adam has significantly less he's walking away from, so how we're handing this time is significantly different. We're going to arrive in Georgia with very little to show for the last 4 years (excluding our best souvenir- Nolan). And I'm working to be okay with that.
But please, Adam. Don't make me throw away that shoebox.
NO!! You can't throw away the shoebox!!!
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