Empty rooms and empty closets. .

As I'm sitting here in my house looking at blank walls, empty closets, and the last few boxes waiting to be sealed, I remember how overwhelming moving can be. Sure there is exhaustion that comes from packing, lifting and cleaning but that's only a small part of it.  A midst the inevitable chaos (even if it's organized chaos) is an underlying emotional roller-coaster that always seems to come with moving. 
Every move has signaled the start of a new much anticipated chapter in my life.  College, marriage, teaching, Army. So there has always been excitement and even a bit of impatience surrounding a move.  Maybe it comes from having Army Brat parents who raised that moving was an adventure. Whatever the reason I've never as an adult dreaded moving.

There is also this sense of finality that always makes me a little sad. It's the same sadness you get when you finish a book, or watch the final episode of a great television series. I look around at my almost empty house and see the life that we have built here. As with every chapter of a life, it hasn't been perfect but any of that seems to become forgotten in a move. (Until you find out Georgia won't fill a prescription written by a PA...then I start to remember...)
But here in Georgia  was the first time we lived in a house not an apartment. It was the first time we celebrated every holiday away from our extended families.  We added a 160 lbs, 4 legged, cover in fur giant lap dog to our household. We went through 4 cars and 2 motorcycles more so by choice than by disaster. We've fed dinner to people and used our couch as a  bed more times than I can count. So I sit here happy to almost be done with moving,  antsy for the future, and sad that this phase of our life is ending. It's been a good phase.