Last Day at Home

Tonight we said good-bye to our friend.  The place we called the bank when we first moved into it because of its appearance... three stories high and completely square.  We have occupied the first floor apartment in this granite cube for the last four years. 

The girls loved climbing all over the truck last week as it was being loaded.

Today was hard.  It seemed we would never make it out of the house alive. Our shipments have been packed and gone for a week, but somehow there seemed to be lots of stuff still in the house.  I made many trips upstairs to leave random items outside my neighbor's door, and our ayi took many things home as well.  When it was finally finished, Seth and Gwen and I sat on the bare living room floor playing silly games, like balancing various items on our noses, waiting for Scott to return for us after his first trip to the hotel, car loaded with our boxes and bags.  It will take us no small amount of organizing to get this last bit of stuff ready to go with us on our Saturday flight.

I had to shed a few tears as we stood by the car, outside the house in the dark.  The house itself isn't really a place I loved for itself, what with the marble floors inside and the imposing appearance outside.  I loved all the kids that came through that place, though.  All the meals prepared for hungry high schoolers, the sleep-overs, the movie nights.  Loved the time spent in the granite cube with our small group friends.  Loved all the playtime for my girls with the other kids of our Chinese Beverly Hills neighborhood, all the conversations with other moms in the twilight at the little playground.  Hard to walk away from those memories.

Caleb and Zach in his room last week after the packers finished.

Tonight we're in a hotel.  One more day of school tomorrow.  More good-byes to say, and for me I'm sure a few more tears to shed at the all-school closing chapel.  I'm thinking about whether I'll walk "home" from school with Gwen one last time, to stand outside our China house.