We have found the most incredible country home – charming and rustic, yet bright and full of sunshine.  Surrounded by open space and horses, and yet very close to civilization.  It is what we have been dreaming of for years – and we move in just over a week.  So why, tonight, am I so very sad about moving there?  Why am I in tears at the very thought of leaving this home when moving to a new one was just exactly what I wanted.  Well, I really don’t know.

I can assume it is because of the time I have been here, the memories that this little house holds.  The birth of my youngest happened right here in this home, and those strong memories, that I know are within me, I sort of fear losing as we move.

That great big tree in the backyard that we have spent hours and hours playing underneath on the swing set: the memories of the very first time Sammy was brave enough to climb up the ladder himself, of Madeline lovingly pushing her brothers on the swing and then playfully having her own turn, and of Benjamin being pushed in his little wooden swing all day, every day, for an entire summer.

The tree I painted on the nursery wall while pregnant with Sam.  The time spent counting the leaves as I changed countless diapers beneath it.  The bedrooms where I nursed, rocked, and paced two newborns night after night. My daughters room, where nightly chats have been held since we first moved in.

The back deck where my hubby and I sit after the little ones are finally quiet and where we talk and dream about someday — someday, owning a country home.  The very country home that I no longer want to move to.  At least not tonight.

So I have talked with my sister, and taken advice from my Grandmother and Aunt.  I know that change is hard.  I know that these very memories will come with me to my new home.  That we will grow as a family and make even more memories – likely much greater ones – as we strive to make our own little farm.  Memories that involve chickens, gardening, bonfires, and closeness.  Camp outs, cousins, and lots of picnics. My children are still so small, and their childhoods will really unfold in this home.  Our new home.

But it is ever so hard.  Change.  Even very good change that we have been hoping for years to happen.  So tonight I will be a little sad, a little sentimental, and very grateful for this home in which we live right now.  This home is wonderful.  And these years have been amazing.

Then tomorrow — tomorrow I will begin to pack.  I will make memories of my little ones playing in the boxes and marveling at how big rooms look when they are empty.  We will empty this home completely.  Pack up every single memory.  And we will move.  To our new home – our dream home.  And we will fill it to the very brim with every memory we can.

We will find a new tree to put our swing set under, settle the little ones into new bedrooms with new painted trees and nightly chats, and John and I will sit on our new back porch talking and dreaming about building our family farm.

Yes, I will be excited then.  Just not tonight.