It’s quite an exercise packing up one’s belongings. You get a chance (hopefully) to examine the things that surround you everyday. Somehow in the day to day it all starts to blend into the background. When was the last time I really looked at this mosaic birdhouse that’s been sitting on my mantel for years?

I won this at a Habitat for Humanity silent charity auction during the time I lived in Atlanta in the mid-90’s. When I went to pick it up after the auction, a little chunk had fallen off. I was able to contact the artist (whose name I’ve since forgotten!) for her to repair it. I was thrilled to be able to meet the artist and see her studio. I love the mug handle used as the perch and the mirror pieces radiating around the opening.

As I’ve been packing I’ve been coming across all sorts of old photos and memorabilia. I’ve tried to stay on task and not get lost in reminiscence, but it is futile. I found a series of photos of every apartment I lived in during college. A silly post card from my brother. Handwritten letters (!) from my husband during the years of our pre-marriage long distance relationship. Some documents from small claims court when I sued a childrenswear company for an unpaid freelance bill 20 years ago. The little hat my first baby wore home from the hospital.

Our house is now more of a cardboard collage of boxes than a homey collection of toys and knick knacks. It’s an interesting transition. The more I pack things away, the more my sense of home is dissolving. All of the items that make this feel like home are are under wraps. It’s almost provides a natural emotional withdrawal. If this doesn’t look like home, it’s not home anymore. It must be time to go.

I will miss Wisconsin. Although we’ve only lived in this house 3 years, we’ve been in Wisconsin for about 9. Our kids were born in this state. We like to tease them that Mom is a Nutmeg (I was born in Connecticut) Dad is a Buckeye (he was born in Ohio) and the they are born-in-Wisconsin Cheese-heads! If they don’t like it, they can just tell us we’re nuts. (bad pun, sorry) Speaking of corny jokes, I will miss saying this every time the hot summer breeze brings the smell of manure across the farmland: “Welcome to Wisconsin, smell our dairy-air!”

I’m optimistic about moving to Maryland. Of course, I’m glad we’re done having children. A baby born in Maryland would most certainly be a crab!