Slow Dancing

This evening I discovered that there is nothing better than slow dancing in the kitchen with the husband. After the children are in bed.

However, I am mourning the thought that the children must return to school in the morning. Mourning for two reasons. One, our 24/7 time together has come to an end. And two, no more sleeping in. Oh how I will miss the sleeping in. And the children.

These past two weeks have flown by in a whirlwind. Our Christmas break was spent laughing, working, traditioning, playing, movie-watching, gifting, singing, snuggling, packing.

Packing.

Did you know?

We are packing up our home of the last five years and moving.

Moving across to the other side of Phoenix. Closer to family. To a bigger home (how does one keep a bigger home clean? Especially when one grapples with keeping the current home clean.) Where we will have a bit more land. With horse privileges. And chicken privileges. We are planning on cashing in on the chicken privilege part. As soon as we learn how to care for chickens. Horses? Maybe later.

We are excited. And sad.

Sad to leave the family we have been adopted into. A wonderful family. A kind of blissful slow dance with people we have come to love. How do you leave such good people?

But, I have my little family. And I get to take them with me wherever I go. And especially, hopefully, into eternity. And that is bliss.

And so, this evening I have come to the conclusion that there is pretty much nothing better than slow-dancing with the husband in the kitchen after the children have been tucked into bed.

Until we heard those little footsteps coming down the stairs.

Slow dances will keep. And new kitchens are calling.

And new families.