Friday, September 3, 2010

the heart

One of my best friends in life is moving to Washington D.C. tomorrow morning. She and her husband and their four beautiful children. It's been a hard week.

I went over there tonight to help with last minute things - cleaning out the fridge, taking some trash for them, wiping down counters, checking the house for little things that might have been overlooked.

That last part was not my favorite. The house was empty. Their children are the same ages as ours and they were all at another friend's house for the evening. It was sad to see the house without all their playfulness. Without them.

They're an Air Force family, and all of their belongings are already in trucks, heading to the next assignment.

I've always loved being there, but the house itself has very little to do with that. I've said it before, and it bears repeating. It's the memories, guys. It's the life that's lived well in a house that makes it home. Not paint, not wood floors, not just the right colors.

It's memories.

Great. Now I'm crying, again.

images from Flickr

1 comment:

Elisa @ What the Vita said...

:( I'm sorry... I hate it when friends move away. There should be a law against that.