Moving On

Packed and ready to go.
Packed and ready to go.

They’re riding bikes and screaming at each other over the cacophony of lawnmowers starting up on a late Sunday morning in May. The sun has peaked out, finally, revealing bright green blotches on lawns. Our lawn is a out of control. The sun and cooler temperatures have coaxed the grass several inches per day.

But we’ll mow later, maybe. We probably should before the new owners move in. Before we move out. Is it okay to let them ride bikes in the funeral home’s driveway? I wonder for the hundredth time. No calling hours today, so I assume liveliness is allowed.

Such a great driveway. Such a great neighborhood.

We’re moving on. Moving to something completely unknown and uncomfortable. No more perfect paved driveways for biking. Farms and silos and fields instead. No more walking to the park and school and coffee house. Long rural route bus rides instead.

I’m sad but excited. The kids are frenetic; off. Screeching and crying, then laughing and smiling. We’re all of two minds about this moving on thing. Now our collective eight minds are reeling together but in different directions.

I just want to sit here and enjoy the Spring that finally arrived. The sun. The trees. The grass. And the driveways. But, I can’t.

We’re moving on.

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