For the past five years, without fail, one of my children has needed to move. And also without fail, it has happened at Christmas time. So much so, Jerry and I have jokingly said that we needed to purchase a magnetic sign that would attach to his truck advertising this new-found, or not so new anymore, mission in our life, “We Move At Christmas.”
This year Laura, Andy, and Lucy Drew’s move has proved to be true to form, except that it didn’t happen at Christmas, yet. We shall see. (They are looking to buy a home so a move could happen any day.) One week ago after a mad flurry of planning, packing, and saying goodbye to friends and family in Alabama, they have landed here with us. In what I refer to as a happy challenge of rearranging rooms to having a new purpose—the library is now a nursery, furniture finding new homes in different rooms, and the addition of one more dog (she is the best mannered and most well-behaved of the bunch)—we are all settling in. And Jerry and I wouldn’t have it any other way. To be part of the adventure, part of all of their lives, even though moments can be hard, is a blessing we wouldn’t want to miss.
