I should be packing right now.
Because, three weeks.
In just over three weeks we’re boarding an American-bound plane for yet another trans-global move, this time for a one year home assignment.
I’d like to think that we’re going to be totally on top of things this time. No more last minute insanity.
But who am I kidding?
Let me tell you how it’s going to go.
Every day these next weeks, I will plan to pack and sort. And then a friend will text to get the kids together to play because the sky is blue and how many more times will our kids get to play together? And I will say “yes” because, of course.
I will start each morning with some journaling and not be able to stop because this writing it down is saving me. All the feelings. All the thoughts.
I will go out for all those dinners, because if I don’t say goodbye to those dear ones, my heart will break and I will kick myself when I’m gone. I will take their sweet going away gifts and discreetly slip them in the give-away box.
And I will ask that family over for a dinner, because I need us to sit and laugh and share all our stories just one more time. I need us to leave well.
I will sleep very little the last week before we move. There will be lots of late nights, because I’ve been doing all the above.
Also because packing while 3 kids are awake in a little apartment is … not what you’d call productive.
On that last day, my husband and I will scramble around, we will argue over the last items that can’t fit.
Then time will freeze for a moment and we will hold each other in the middle of the chaos, the two of us surrounded by all the luggage. I’ll lean my head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped round me. I’ll remember all the times we’ve done this moving thing, how I’d do it all over again to live this life, this story with this man.
Then a child will yell and break the spell.
I will ugly cry when we shut the door on our empty home. Because I always do.
We will say our last goodbyes, and I will cry more.
And then just the five of us will go hide at a hotel near the airport for 2 nights. Because I’ve learned I cannot get on an airplane like this, or my sanity might be left somewhere over the Pacific Ocean forever.
We will spend an entire day swimming in the hotel pool, eating good food, and sleeping…finally sleeping.
Then I will step on that plane, shoulders aching from the carry-on that was supposed to be nice and light, but magically grew heavy.
There won’t be a lap baby this time, which is worth a whoop, holler and a sob.
I’ll lean my head back against my seat as the engines thrust us into the air. I’ll watch China slip away beneath us.
That’s when I’ll breathe this, my airplane/moving prayer…
That is, I predict, how these next three weeks are going to go.
What does moving insanity look like for you?
I'm linking up with Velvet Ashes at The Grove. Our prompt this week is "Sanity."