Last Night

Last night at home.

Last night I tuck my girls into the beds I chose for them and the fluffy blankets we picked out together.
Last night I hold my old cat in my lap while trying to type.
Last night I hear the wood frogs in the vernal pool out back and see the fireflies congregate under my ancient Rhododendron.
Last night I sit in the recliner and watch my perfectly perfect fireplace roar. (yes, I turned it on just to watch it, in June)
Last night I take a wine glass down from my beautiful cabinets in the kitchen I designed myself.
Last night I sit on the porch and listen to the bats overhead and watch Orion travel across the sky.
Last night I wonder just how big the Hosta will grow by the next day.
Last night I stand in the hallway and watch my girls sleep. In the rooms they came home to as babies. In the rooms they learned how to clap, walk, laugh, talk, shop, roll their eyes and sneak cheetos after bedtime.
Last night I pass by the spot where I got the phone call that my father had died.
Last night I walk by the place where every Christmas tree in my children’s memory has been, and all the laughter and squealing that comes to mind with just standing still in that spot.
Last night I walk by the place in the garden where my pets are buried.
Last night I hear and feel and smell and taste my home.
Last night in the home that I made a home.

Leaving your home is one of the hardest things in the world. No matter that the decision is right. It is hard.
When I return after tomorrow, it will be as a guest. It will no longer be my home.

There are some amazing things in store for the future, but for tonight, I’ll watch a favorite movie on the TV and soak up what I can of this old house and the ghost of the family that lived in it. I hope it finds peace.