Boxes

Boxes I hate you. I hate what you represent. Moving house the last time was so fun and exciting. It was the start of a new life. A life of living in our beautifully newly created family home.
Steve and I spent 2 years getting to the point of moving in. Evenings, weekends, every spare moment we had, we worked on the house. I might as well have taken out subscriptions of house magazines considering the amount I bought. We were constantly on the look out for things and spent hours/days/weeks/months planning meticulously the details in our home. Many an evening was spent outside with Steve marking out with brooms and wood the size of the new ensuite/sitting room/dinning room - in fact every room so I could get a feel for the size. Steve did this for me, as his drawings on squared paper just didn't make sense to me. I needed to see it come alive. I remember going to an old timber yard and climbing across battered beams, so we could find a beam for our fire place. A real open fireplace that I so wanted. Steve changed the plans and incorporated a working fire into our sitting room. He did this because he was so keen and interested that we created a home that we both loved. So clambering over old wood not knowing what I was looking at, whilst Steve enthusiastically pointing out beams which could be "cleaned up" and would make a great feature for a brand new sitting room. So the old piece of wood as I saw it was chosen and then it was jet washed down and spent 3 weeks in my kitchen between the breakfast bar so it could dry out. I remember a night at my house with both girls and Steve limbo dancing underneath it! Who would have known that Meg the non dancer would be more flexible at limbo than Vix! Needless to say Steve won! And I came a poor 4th!
So now this beautiful piece of timber has pride of place above our wood burner with pictures of Steve and the girls on it.
Looking at this reminds me that everything in this house has a story. Nothing was just "put" anywhere. The house was designed from the inside out, to create the perfect family home.
So leaving this behind, packing boxes of our things is hard. I know this move is my choice. I know Im fortunate I dont have to leave. Im not being forced out but it is my choice. But it isnt really. What I want is the life I had. I want the family, the partnership, the love that Steve and I had to be back in this house. \Its almost to me that the house died the day Steve did. I can feel its emptiness. I now look at the house and remember the sad nights. The red chair symbolises the nights spent upset on them. Instead of the memory of the day Steve arrived home from work with a chair in the back of the car. I remember the house was still a building site. The extension didnt have a roof and here he was with a chair! I remember saying " What is that! Where will that go?" And all he could say was its beautiful and we will find it home in our new place. And that we did, it has pride of place in our kitchen. It now reminds me no longer of how we came about having it but more about the evenings sat on it, wishing and wanting Steve to return.
So red chair Im not sure your coming with me on this next part of the journey. Many other things will be but I think its time you got a new home.