The Art of Leaving

12 Months Out.

Orders probably haven’t arrived, but the plans are in motion. Every holiday I find myself pausing before setting the décor out. Thinking about how this will be the last time this home displays our favorite holiday décor. At the end of the season, I spend extra time packing things knowing they need to be secured for a move and not just for going back into the attic. I also begin to look at the relationships I’ve made. I start to make more of an effort to be present and cut out more of my schedule to feed those relationships more.

6 Months Out.

The mental checklist begins. The internal countdown starts. As I walk through the house I begin to create the move-out to-do list. The walls need to be wiped down. That hole needs to be patched. That stack of papers is going to have to be filed soon. The overwhelming feeling that although we still have a lot of time before we move, time will inevitably start to go by quicker. I try to tell myself to slow down and appreciate the things around me, soak in the relationships I’ve made, and make the most of the activities we get to do at this duty station. I try to stop myself from checking out and looking to the next duty station, but I tend to drift. I want to know what our new house will look like. I want to know if we will have good neighbors and if our neighborhood will have a good walking path. I get excited about the new area to explore and the adventures our family will go on. All the while I tell myself to stay grounded. To not check out. To be present and invest myself in this place and these people, not the future.

4 Months Out.

The Great Purge. I start looking at everything in our house and asking myself if I’ve used it, if I still want it, and do I really need it. If the answer is “no” to any of those questions, it’s gone. I love this time because it feels good to get rid of the junk that weighs us down. It’s amazing how much you collect in just a short amount of time. Even after moving as much as we do, we always tend to have things we don’t need after just two short years. Something we just had to have when we first got here is no longer something I want to bring with us to the next place. More often I think of our new home. I still have no idea where we are going to end up living. I begin to look, but I know it’s still too early. Meanwhile, I fear failure. I fear that I will not be able to keep up with the relationships I’ve built here. I’ve always hated being the one left behind, but here I am constantly leaving people behind. How will I fill their cups from so far away? These are the questions I am burdened with.

2 Months Out.

The lists are getting longer. We need to sort through toys, start listing things on Marketplace, tackle each room and get it ready. What are we going to have the movers take and what will we put in our personal vehicles? I also start to plan our move. Yes, we could do it in just a few days, but that’s not an adventure. What could we do? What could we see? Those are the questions I can focus on, because planning an adventure is more fun than planning goodbyes. I hear it more and more. “Do you really have to move?” “Can’t you guys just stay here?” “There’s a chance you could be stationed here again, right?” These questions break me little by little. These people have adopted me into their lives, loved me and my family, and I am leaving them.

4 Weeks Out.

The search for a new home is ON. Reaching out to landlords and getting automated responses asking us to schedule a tour… if only they had read my message saying we are military and live in a different state… It’s a gamble, we can settle for this house, but what if something comes up, we still have time. But is it just easier to have something settled? Yes. The answer is always yes for me. Planning and organizing are the gist of my days. Getting the house as ready as I can for the packers, but also trying to fit in a play date and zoo day as often as I can. There’s just not enough time.

3 Weeks Out.

Goodbyes have begun. I know I’ll probably see them again before we move, but just in case. Packers are showing up next week so pictures have been taken off the walls, furniture has been rearranged, toys are stashed away. This is the final stretch. This is where my stress is highest. It’s the climb of a roller coaster getting ready for the big drop, I know once we reach the top of the big drop, the ride will fly by and before I know it, I’ll be back at the start of it. I want to be everywhere with everyone, but I am also feeling so stressed out that I just feel the need to be home.

2 Weeks Out.

Packers are here. Watching our tidy home turn into a forest of brown packages. All of our things that made our house a home is now packed up. It no longer feels like our home. Goodbyes and long hugs are expected at this point. I am ready. Rip off the Band-Aid and let’s go.

1 Week Out.

Our house is empty. We watched the big truck haul our stuff away. We are left with blank walls, empty rooms, and a lot of cleaning to do. We are officially in the in-between. We are moving, but haven’t moved yet. We have a house, but not a home. These are the final goodbyes. I don’t know if I will see them again. I hope so, but there’s no guarantee.

Moving Day.

I am as ready as I’ll ever be. Excited for our adventure, but sad to drive away. It’s the last of lasts. Last time I will look at that backyard, the last time I will lock the front door. Last time I will drive out of that neighborhood. The last time we will see the boys’ school. It’s a lot of deep breaths. It’s the balance of sadness for what we can’t bring with us and excitement for what is waiting for us.

This is the art of leaving. It’s colorful, dramatic, and life-size. It humbles me, infuriates me, saddens me, excites me, and sometimes it just stresses me out.  But it’s made me grow and it has taught me so many lessons. It’s a piece of art that I carry with me to each duty station. This is my art of leaving.