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Bombshells and Moving

Being overwhelmed has been an understatement of late.  I transferred with my job.  We moved AGAIN!  My family hates when we move.  But I feel  that we’ve finally found a place that we can call home.  The accommodations are just what we like.  We finally have the kids in a good school system.  Honey-do even found a part time job to make up the difference.  He finally has something to take a shower for. 

 

The understatement is not just because of my job.  It is because of all the bombshells that have hit since we moved.  The oldest heathen wonders whether she may be pregnant. Like when I found out I was pregnant with her, I am not ready for this but know this will change the dynamic if she is.  My mother-in-law is moving in due to health reasons.  And I am having health issues of my own.  I am going to have a colonoscopy tomorrow because my doctor wants to make sure that my only problem may be irritable bowel syndrome.  So I’m home from work today on a liquid only diet until this evening when I start the CLEAN OUT!  I am SO not ready for this latest adventure.

 

So in the spirit of my move, I dug up another poem I wrote over a decade ago about moving.  It seemed to fit my mood for the day because it’s been two months since the move, and we still have boxes everywhere.  I just don’t have time during the week to get anything done and with this huge house, I have little time on the weekends but to get the cleaning and normal chores done. 

 

Yippy skippy!!!  Enjoy!

 

Coming Home

 

Once again we’ve come to that point.

We’ll be packing up for another trip.

Into boxes our worldly possessions go.

Into the night we’ll travel like a wayward ship.

 

Pictures come off the wall

to be wound in bubble wrap.

Bicycles tossed into the pickup bed

and tied down with a strap.

 

Some cartons are filled with

knick knacks and such.

Others have photos of everyone

we love so much.

 

Plates, bowls, and coffee cups

Pots and pans and silverware

Sheets and towels

Even the clothes we wear.

 

We’ll leave the walls bare;

the windows wide open;

the floors won’t even have

a speck of dust I’m hoping.

 

We’ll leave this place

we’ve known for a year

to return to our home.

We’re just glad to leave here.

 

ã 2003

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