My mom is moving tomorrow.
She's been living in Idaho for the past 33 years and now she is moving all the way across the country to Florida. I know that she's looking forward to the move and the fresh start, but I also know that there's a lot of emotion about leaving Boise. She's leaving friends, the place where she raised her children, and the 25 acre property that she's lived on for 17 years.
I've been thinking about this whole transition a lot this week...mostly in the wee hours of the morning when I'm nursing my newborn and my mind is wandering around misty pathways! :) She said to me last week when she was here visiting that she will never be able to go back to Currant Creek (her property. She has poured money, hard work, love, and really some of the lifeblood of her soul into that place for the last almost 2 decades. I think that the idea of coming back when it's no longer hers is just too painful. So, sometime this weekend, she will drive away from Currant Creek and never come back. Imagining what this will be like for her - at the very final, real moment - has brought up so many thoughts and emotions for me.
This will probably sound weird to you, but it kind of reminds me of the emotional commitment the pioneers made. Ever since I learned about the settling of the west when I was in elementary school, the thing that has stuck with me the most is that those people, when they packed up and left their homes and everything they had ever known, knew it was for good - forever. This has always seemed like the ultimate in courage to me. They had no telephones, trains, highways, airplanes...when they left it was final. I just can't imagine. I can't imagine saying goodbye to my family, friends, community, and never, ever seeing them again and probably not even hearing about or from them. I don't think I have that kind of courage in me.
She's been living in Idaho for the past 33 years and now she is moving all the way across the country to Florida. I know that she's looking forward to the move and the fresh start, but I also know that there's a lot of emotion about leaving Boise. She's leaving friends, the place where she raised her children, and the 25 acre property that she's lived on for 17 years.
I've been thinking about this whole transition a lot this week...mostly in the wee hours of the morning when I'm nursing my newborn and my mind is wandering around misty pathways! :) She said to me last week when she was here visiting that she will never be able to go back to Currant Creek (her property. She has poured money, hard work, love, and really some of the lifeblood of her soul into that place for the last almost 2 decades. I think that the idea of coming back when it's no longer hers is just too painful. So, sometime this weekend, she will drive away from Currant Creek and never come back. Imagining what this will be like for her - at the very final, real moment - has brought up so many thoughts and emotions for me.
This will probably sound weird to you, but it kind of reminds me of the emotional commitment the pioneers made. Ever since I learned about the settling of the west when I was in elementary school, the thing that has stuck with me the most is that those people, when they packed up and left their homes and everything they had ever known, knew it was for good - forever. This has always seemed like the ultimate in courage to me. They had no telephones, trains, highways, airplanes...when they left it was final. I just can't imagine. I can't imagine saying goodbye to my family, friends, community, and never, ever seeing them again and probably not even hearing about or from them. I don't think I have that kind of courage in me.
Although my mom's situation is obviously not that extreme, it has many parallels. Her best friend has had a really rough year and while this move is the best thing for mom, how can she not be heartbroken that she's having to leave her best friend at such an awful time? She has connections and friends and familiarity in Boise. She's driven the roads and watched the seasons change for three decades. I still remember the feeling of watching Boise recede away through the window of an airplane as I went to college and thinking, 'that's it, I officially don't live there anymore'- how much more strange is it going to be for mom to drive away for the last time?
Hmmm...I have even more to say about this than I thought! ha! I've been having some specific thoughts and memories of Currant Creek over the last week that I want to write down, but for now I'm going to leave this post as it is before it gets unwieldy.
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