Tears, like Rain, Fall

I hate moving days. And I hate that moving days are always rainy.

At least the weather understands.

My friend is moving today. And in case I had not mentioned it, I hate that she's moving.

Time and time again, that stupid 'For Sale' sign appeared. The first half-dozen times, we all became very upset and emotional. Eventually, when the sign would inevitably appear again, the boys would remember my words, 'it isn't time to worry yet'.

They bought a retreat center in Red River Gorge, our friends did. Still, we didn't worry too much. After all, they couldn't move until their house sold.

Finally, the strain of two mortgages became too much and they decided to stop going back and forth. A moving date was set, but it was often changed, so again, we didn't worry too much.

As this final moving day became closer, I still played it off, deep in denial. Like the boy who falls flat on his face in front of a group of his peers, I assured myself, 'It doesn't hurt'.

We picked up moving boxes, took her out for one last girl's night, and made arrangements to help with packing today.

When I pulled up to their home this morning, the trucks were loaded, the refrigerators strapped down tightly.

A small lump began to form.

I walked into their home, the home in which we've spent countless hours. The home where I watched them give birth to their third born, the home where we've laughed, and more importantly, where we've cried. The home where I know exactly where the dishes are and where the coffee supplies are...

And saw a home that no longer has a kitchen table or a scrap of furniture. No washing machine, no toys. No play doh, no big pillows or beds. Not even the moving boxes are left.

The lump grew.

Now I just feel like I am choking, this large lump in my throat tightening until I can barely breath...

My youngest son sits beside me, eerily still, trying to process the feelings that accompany this day.

And so, just as the rain falls today, so do the tears.