This week, I have been slowly moving things into our new home, a mere ten minutes from our current apartment. I'm full of nostalgia as I drive back and forth. The leaves are changing and the sky is so blue--it reminds me of coming here. There were such complex feelings when we arrived; it had been so unclear whether or not we had made the right choice, but I remember all the things about the weather and the roads. Now, moving is much, much less stressful. I have two weeks left to move out of this apartment and we will be in our new house in about 11 days, giving us plenty of time to get everything from here to there and getting everything cleaned up here. I have high hopes that we will get most of our deposit back, but we'll have to see about that.
The new house is coming together, although I had to do a serious amount of garden work on Tuesday and Wednesday as the previous occupier did the bare, bare minimum when it came to cutting the grass, meaning that there were parts of the lawn that had not been cut in three years. Where the bushes started and where the lawn ended was not immediately clear. I cut and cut for two days, and I think I made some headway, but there is a lot left to do. Moving our stuff in has felt good though and we are taking down the old pictures and getting our stuff settled. It will be nice: I won't lie. There is also some chance, I'm realizing, that we will not live in an apartment for the foreseeable future. I feel like we are moving on, that our little family is taking a step up.
We're incredibly lucky, I realized, to be in this country with what we have, and although I don't believe in luck or providence, only the narratives of luck and providence, I feel like the narrative comes very easy for us. I'm not sure if that says more about us or the narrative, but I hope it shows that I am becoming a less negative person. So I am happy and grateful. For tonight at least.