More Than a House by Heather M. Borger (e book reader TXT) 📖

our grill and some burgers in the cooler. The rain started to fall as the grill heated up. How wonderful to know we finished just before the rain started! Luck seemed to be on our side. We made supper (after realizing EVERYTHING else really was packed and we’d have to borrow cooking utensils from our neighbor!), then packed the grill away in the bed of my husband’s truck and left to spend the night at my mother-in-law’s house.
It was hard to sleep that night. I knew I would never sleep in my old house again. I knew that the next night I would be in my new house. I knew I would be somewhere we were all so excited to go. There would be new smells and new sounds. All our daughter could talk about the last few days was her new room in her new house. She was going to get a big-girl bed to sleep in! I was going to have a dining room! And, my husband, Greg, was going to have a fresh, empty lawn ready for all his landscaping ideas to blossom.
Friday morning we left and finalized a few things before we could go to closing - you see, I packed all our bedding where I knew I would remember it and it would not get lost. However, it happened to be one of the first things that got packed in the back of a very large moving truck. So, we bought a set of bed sheets and a blanket, then off to the lawyer’s office to begin. Between the closings on both our old house and the new one, it was an all-day affair, but by about 6:00pm, we were walking through the doors of our new house. That night we slept in our new bedroom. It was still hard to sleep. It was hard to believe everything worked out so well. Saturday morning we unpacked the truck. Someone asked us if we were sure this was a bigger house. There just didn’t seem to be enough room to put everything away. I walked inside to see where we could go with our last few possessions...
The boxes were everywhere - every corner, every room, piled high against every wall. Some stacks were as high as I was tall.
Some boxes were already unpacked. On the floor were the stacks of newspaper from all those boxes that had been labeled, “Fragile.”
Some boxes were still packed full. Full of our treasures. Full of our memories and the life we had built together. They were taped shut. The strong smell of the black permanent marker I used to label them had faded. It wasn’t a pleasant smell anyway, but it indicated that something exciting was going on. Those boxes waited so patiently. Just sat there knowing any one of them could be next. Each box would be empty in a matter of days.
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Text: Copyright 2012 Heather M. Borger Photos by Heather M. Borger
Publication Date: 01-22-2012

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