Thumbprints in our Palms
The piles have grown.
Moving day is getting closer.
The girls have slept their last Monday and Tuesday nights here at our house.
Saturday night I came home from work and I called up the stairs to tell them I was home. In unison they said "Hi Momma!"
... and I burst into tears.
As the stacks of boxes grow taller and their rooms grow emptier, my mind keeps drifting back to the days we first brought them home from the hospital. Tiny babies in those very rooms that are now filled with moving boxes and memories.
We’ve always told them this will forever be their home. No matter what happens, no matter how life changes, they can always come back here. Always.
My girls are grown. My heart is overflowing with pride and my eyes are overflowing with tears.
I’m excited for them...Truly excited...
...and I’m ridiculously happy they still LET me buy things for their new house.
Years ago we made this painting.
We each picked our own color. All our favorites. (Mine, of course, had glitter.)
In the painting, our fingertips are touching because, at the time, we were living our everyday lives together. We shared the big moments and the little ones. The ordinary days. The late nights. The laughter from upstairs. The waving goodbye at the door, while praying silently for their safe return.
The thumbprints in each other’s palms were the most important part.
They were a promise. A "family promise."
Because "one day" we would not all live under the same roof. Life would continue and change.
We would each build our own “day to day", but those thumbprints were our promise that no matter where life takes us, we will always be there for each another.
We will always show up.
We will always be involved in each other’s lives.
...And now somehow… that “one day” is here.
#girlsmoving #imnotreadyforthis #emptynesters #imnotcrying (ok, that one is not true anymore.)