I need to write

I wish I had more time right now to write.

When I finally hit our now-on-the-floor mattress at night, the words begin tumbling across the black screen of soon-to-be-sleep that cloud my consciousness.

So many emotions. So many words. Writing is how I make sense of those emotions.

But when your day is so full with a to-do list longer than you can possibly conquer, there really isn't time for writing.

So I am compromising. A quick type. Not nearly everything I want to say. No time for that.

I think what I am feeling, each time I pick up an item and decide which category it fits into for shipping, can be summarized in one story. So, because I am short on time, I think this one story will be enough to get my feelings on paper. Or the computer. You get the idea.

Yesterday, I packed the boys' boots. Their rain boots from Kristi (a.k.a. "Itsy"). Like every other item in our home, I had to decide where to put them. We can't take them in our personal as we only get eight bags, and rain boots wouldn't be a high priority item. And UB has a weight limit. Rain boots are a bit on the heavy side so UB is probably not a great idea. We obviously didn't want them in storage.

That left HHG. But HHG could take up to four months to get over to Turkey.

I am standing over the box of HHG stuff for the boys. I am holding the boots. I am realizing that if I drop them in this box, by the time we get them back, they probably won't fit anymore. They will be too small. The boys are growing so fast. And yet, I don't feel I have a choice. So I put them in and find myself tearing up. It may be dumb, but the boys love their boots. I don't want them to be too small before their time. But I am not really sure what choice I have.

So I drop them in.

Later that evening JB calls me into the living room right before bedtime to translate what Isaac is asking him. I quickly translate "Goggy boose" into froggy boots. Randomly, instinctively almost, Isaac wants his froggy boots. "Wear Goggy boose to bed," he says in his high-pitched, sweet-spirited voice characteristic of our little Isaac.

Most of their toys have been put away by now. Only a few remain out. Entertainment has been coming in the form of jumping on our bed and playing in the Tupperware and going over to Della's house and playing in the driveway. Playing with things that are still out. That haven't faced the decision-firing-squad like so many other items.

I return to our HHG room and pull out the froggy boots. And while I am at it, I pull out the car boots as well. JB puts them on Isaac, and later that evening, we return to the nursery to take them off of him so he doesn't end up with "sweaty feet" in the morning.

And I make the decision that despite the weight issue, I'm putting them in UB. They'll go over in 45 days. And then they, hopefully, won't be too small by the time they get there.

And I feel a bit better.

. . . that's just one story.

But hopefully it sort of represents the emotions that I am dealing with as we pack up our home. This is the only home either of our sons has ever known. They are watching their toys slowly disappear. It's all sort of surreal.

Tomorrow the first movers arrive.

And maybe after that, I'll have more time, to put all I am feeling into better words.

But for now, that one story will have to do.