Boxed.

The Christmas packages have all been opened, packaging discarded. 

Different kinds of boxes have taken their places.

In two days we begin our next adventure.  In two days we leave.  In two days.

I'm excited and nervous - wondering.  Doodlebug is struggling with it.  "Why do we have to go?  I don't like change.  I like my house.  I like my room.  I want to stay."  Junebug says he's kind of happy, kind of sad.  The adventurer in me is eager to go.  The mother in me is having a hard time watching her eldest son suffer.  Even though I know it is the right thing.

The best thing.

I met with Linda yesterday evening - for far too short a time.  For the last couple of years, we've met on New Year's Day to set goals and encourage each other.  This year, we had to revise the meeting date a little, but we still accomplished a lot.  We set new goals, reviewed the last year and vowed to do better.  Both of us had years that started out very differently than they ended up, and our goals didn't keep up with the changes.  We'll strive to be more flexible and attentive in the new year.

I'll write more about that later.  Right now, I'm checking off lists and strapping tape around cardboard and worrying that I'm forgetting essentials.  I'm trying to let go of the perfectionistic tendencies that sometimes paralyze my ability to sort out the mess and pare down the boxes. 

I'm missing Ben, and so thankful to all of you who left such sweet and sympathetic comments on my last post.  It just reminds me of how wonderful a place this internet can be.  Thank you all so much. 

I talked with his sweet veterinarian yesterday, and she believes he suffered some sort of acute event, such as a stroke or sudden heart failure.  I think he was just a gift that was here for a short time to remind us not to take ourselves so seriously.  He also reminded me that an afternoon spent napping in the sunbeams of the back door is an afternoon well spent. 

Especially in the short days of winter.