Last week, we said goodbye. Goodbye to our condo. Goodbye to the place where we met. Goodbye to the place where we fell in love. Goodbye to the place we first brought our little girl home and figured out how to be a family of three. Goodbye to the place where we had friends over to share laughs and food and drink. Goodbye to home.
As far as goodbyes go, it was a pretty smooth, easy one. We had been trying to sell the condo for two years and, after all that time, had begun to feel as if our lives were on hold. There were so many things we were planning to do...once we got a house. As our to-do list grew, our patience waned. Depending on other people to swoop in and save the day was not at all a comfortable position for us to be in, so we were incredibly relieved to close on the condo just last Friday. Our very own independence day celebration consisted of putting Sofia to bed early and indulging in champagne. It was glorious.
Along with all of our belongings (box after box of things now stacked to the ceiling in our storage unit), we brought with us our memories of the place that was our home. We also brought with us an incredible amount of hopefulness and excitement for our future. Visions of new appliances and freshly planted gardens regularly dance through our heads. We eagerly welcome the challenge of making our new house a home, bit by bit, wallpaper panel by wallpaper panel. It will be a true labor of love.
The "we" I keep referring to here is me and Chris. The two of us understand completely the undertaking of moving our storing our stuff, temporarily staying with his parents, moving our stuff again, unpacking it all, and beginning to live in our forever home. Sofia, however, does not. On our first night at Grandmom and Grandpa's house, she wailed at bedtime, "I want to go home to my house." And just this morning she requested that I bring her home to West Deptford so that she could play with her toys. I reminded her that last week she walked through the empty condo and saw that all of her toys were gone. She seemed to understand what I was saying, but I expect there will be another request soon to return to the place that is no longer ours.
Instead of focusing on having Sofia say goodbye, we have been trying to excite her about saying hello to all of the new opportunities she'll have. When we tuck her in at night, we tell her to have sweet dreams about riding her tricycle around our driveway, running around in our fenced-in backyard, playing in her big girl room, swimming in her pool, catching fireflies at night. We promise to take walks to Nana and Pop's house and the library in the wagon rather than driving in the car. We rattle off all of the creatures she'll be able to see wander through our big, nature-filled yard. We predict that she'll make great friends with Patches, the stray cat who patrols the property. We guarantee that she will eventually become a wonderful big sister who will share everything she knows with her little brother or sister.
More than anything, we want Sofia to share in our joy at the childhood she'll have there, one that we hope will resemble our own. We want her to feel safe and loved and happy in her new home. At least for now, Sofia isn't concerned about any of those things, though; she would settle for having all of her toys in one place again and taking inventory. I suppose we should be relieved that her biggest worry is their whereabouts rather than anything more existential about being uprooted. We might even go so far as to consider that a small parental victory! Now if only she'd use the potty...
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