Last night my sister, Meggan, and I spent a few hours unpacking the boxes we’d packed last Friday. No, I’m not staying in Illinois, but Meggan will be moving into my apartment and inheriting everything from my bedroom set to my spices and spice rack.
It’s a happy and sad feeling. I know she will love it there, but I’ve grown really attached to that little apartment. It’s the first place I’ve lived truly on my own, the place that I finally faced my fears of being independent and proved to myself that I could do it. God always provides – whether it’s for that last $50 towards rent or another weeks worth of food.
I arrived in Illinois almost ten years ago now. I never really tried to put down roots, like I had in Omaha when growing up. The last ten years have, in fact, been somewhat of a blur. I’ve worked jobs for family friends, worked in the small Wal-Mart in my dad’s home town – and after quitting watched it become a Super Wal-Mart and, consequently, that small town seeming less small-townish. I’ve dug myself out of debt here slowly, paid for my car and watched my siblings grow up and move on with their lives.
And now I’m moving on with mine. I will miss Illinois. I will miss weekend movie-time with my mother. I will miss kidnapping my sister, Candace, for a weekend at a time – or taking both the boys and getting to know them better over the weekend. I will miss dropping by Lauren’s house to see how big Nova, her Great Dane, has gotten. I’ll miss the random glimpses of Meggan I get between her many jobs. And I will miss hanging out with my dad while he eats in their kitchen after getting home from work. I am so incredibly lucky in my family. It always astonished me why people would want to move away from their families – and don’t get me wrong here; my family is definitely not all butterflies and roses. I love them all so much, and I hate leaving them behind. If only there was some way I could just pack them up and take them with me.
Most of all I will miss my Dad’s hugs. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl – what with my classical piano playing ways and my intense love of Saint-Saens Piano Concerto No. 5.
Thirty years of living near my folks wasn’t nearly enough.