Three months ago, we decided to uproot ourselves from Cambridge, Massachusetts and move near our grandchildren in Silver Spring, Maryland, 400 miles away. Three months did not seem like enough time to make this major transition, but somehow we got through the seemingly endless to-do list it required: sell our house, repair all the “defects” discovered and invented by our buyer’s inspector, sell or give away non-essential-but still-loved-possessions, meet (and like) our buyers, and say goodbye to friends, neighbors and Massachusetts.
When the movers came on a beautiful New England fall day to pack up our belongings, I couldn’t do much but watch. When they returned the next day to load our belongings on the truck, I couldn’t do much but watch and eat all the coffee ice cream left in the freezer so it wouldn’t go to waste. (My friend Joanie who came to lend psychological support also helped me with the ice cream.)
Just after noon, we took off in our car containing Seth who came from New York to share the driving, Peter, my huge Boston fern and me. Eleven hours later, we arrived in Maryland, exhausted after what should have been an eight-hour trip, lengthened by traffic jam after traffic jam.
And maybe not quite ready for our new life.