One last time.

What a surprise I gave myself today. It is/was the last day that our old home was ours. I have spent all weekend there cleaning like a freak making sure that when Craig and Louise walk into their new home, they will be met with cleanliness, making the initial feelings about their new home pleasant ones (I hope). Up until this afternoon, I have been grumbly when going over there to clean, anxious "just to put it behind us." I was ready to move on. Or at least I thought I was. Today, all I had to do was go into the front entrance and clean out all the cleaning supplies and paraphernalia that I had cleaned to the entrance with.

As in all proper cleaning jobs, I moved the ever-growing pile of I-have-no-idea-what-to-do-with-this-so-I'll-just-put-it-in-the-pile stuff from room to room. As I cleaned one room, to get pure satisfaction of a clean, empty room, another grew more untidy. Alas, the last room is always a challenge, with bags of mish-mash inevitably arriving back to the new home with the thought of I'll attack those when I have the energy. At any rate, this is what happened here. And I was too tired yesterday to collect the remains that had gathered at the door.

It was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. But I realized that this was the last time that I would get to roam around my house, one last time. Just me and my house. Meandering around, pausing to fondly touch things that were special to me, taking one last look to forever burn these things into my mind, and all with time seemingly standing still. Up to now, leaving this house hasn't phased me. But my memory took over, and I started remembering all the great things that made it a home: Isaac took his first steps right about there; Natty first slept in his big-boy bed in here, Isaac in there; we had the beginnings of trying to reinvent and heal our family after the Cochrane massacre in here; all the meals we've shared; all the work and heart we put into our renovations to make the place completely ours and a reflection of us; our wonderful yard and neighbours... I couldn't help but breaking into a blubbering mess as I wandered from room to room, envisioning and remembering us there, living life. It's not that I don't like where we are now, but I loved that house. Loved it with all my heart. I knew it was fabulous from the start and always liked it more than Dan. But as I walked through, all I felt was sorrow and loss. Be careful little heart, indeed.

I pulled my sniveling self together to go and return Ms. Margaret's things I'd borrowed to clean, as this is the neighbourhood I'm leaving: one where neighbours let you in to their homes and hearts, whatever the reason. I was fine until she asked me how I was doing, and I became unglued yet again. C'mon, Jodi. Have a little dignity here! It wasn't anywhere to be found, I'm afraid. But Margaret gave me a hug and had me in for milk and chocolate-covered biscuits and a visit to help pull me back together. It worked, though my heart still aches for our beautiful little house we made our home. It's a challenge to do the same to this one all over again, but it's the challenge we signed up for. We'll get there. We always do.