Moms

Yesterday morning, we were in utter chaos, trying to separate what was supposed to be packed and what was not going to be packed.  I was trying to get children moving in the directions I wanted them to be going in and it was a mess.  Geri showed up with a sackful of Egg McMuffins and a box of donuts.  She set up breakfast on the front porch.  She took our laundry to her house and washed and folded it.  She brought back the towels so we could get them packed.  For not the first time in our lives, she was the calm in the storm.

We stayed at her house last night.  She gave Adam and me her bedroom; she slept in the guest room.  She said, "Make yourself at home," and we did. 

Sometimes you need a mom.

This morning, I crept away from Geri's house early while everyone was still asleep.  I came over to our house that is quiet and echo-y and full of boxes.  I started doing a few last minute tasks to prepare for the final part: the movers loading the truck.  I decided to call my mom while I worked.  She said, "Are you OK?  You don't sound OK."

And I really thought I was OK, but when I heard my mom's voice I started to cry. 

I told her about being in my weird house that is our house still but doesn't feel like it.  I told her I was sad.  She said, "Of course you are sad."  She said she would be disappointed if I weren't sad.  She said she's glad our family has been so happy here and are sad to leave.  "It's better than being eager to go because you hate it there," she pointed out.

And she was right.

She made me feel better.  She said to just enjoy the sadness.  Then we talked about other things, among them the time she'll be in Utah in a few weeks and will come and see us.  That's something to be cheerful about.

Sometimes you need a mom.