On Friday morning we woke up from our first, and last, slumber party.
We had had our coffee and a quick bite to eat.
The moving truck was packed. It was time to go.
For the first time in sixteen years it wasn't me who was moving.
But I was unpacking memories of my own....
I remembered the weeks before our move from Fort Worth. A lady from church encouraged me to be sensitive to those I was leaving behind. She reminded me that I was leaving with my family for a "great adventure" while my friends would have to learn to adjust to life with a Kellie-shaped void.
She was a women I respected and I took her words to heart; tucked them away gently... tiny little pearls I was saving for later... only I didn't know just when.
This was the week-- nearly seven year later.
Things are going to be so strange without my Friday-Lunch Bunch (which this summer turned into an often Wed-Thur-Friday Breaksfast/Lunch Bunch.)
There is a huge void that has settled in the Little Yellow House on The Hill, and its gonna be awfully hard to move around it.