First off, if you've never heard that old country song, Time Marches On, I highly recommend you don't check it out today.
Something just seems wrong about crying into brisket, at a Memorial Day barbecue, surrounded by friends that would probably start wondering why the lake gets you all choked up and stuff.
Luckily, I'm alone at the moment, and therefore able to torture myself with whatever tunes I choose.
It's probably not actually THAT sad of a song, but as a kid hearing it randomly on the radio, it always got me pretty upset.
'Cause as much as I wanted to see PG13 movies (scandalouuuus!), learn to drive, get married, and visit the Sesame Street studios - yes, in that order - I wasn't all too keen on the idea of growing up.
Probably 'cause life as a kid had its struggles sure - which ice cream to pick after hailing the musical van, what color to use for the trolls' hair in my favorite coloring book - but it was also really fun and good.
Life as an adult... not always so fun and so good. Sometimes it is, yes. But it's definitely filled with bigger struggles. More stress. And the pains of whithering change.
So for a really long time that song scared me, as did every birthday, choosing anything other than a butter knife from the kitchen, and definitely every major move.
And maybe the reason that tune was one of the first things that came to mind this morning was because this weekend was filled up with another BIG move, the one where we packed a two-bedroom house into a 21-foot-long UHAUL.
We absolutely could not have done it without friends swooping in to help. They did much of the heavy lifting and also the important job of commiserating with us how genuinely bad it sucks to move.
But after an afternoon of strenuous labor, and lots of laughs, I watched as that truck pulled off with most everything we own, and I watched as our friends headed out, and then my husband drove away.
And while he was excitely driving towards our future - in DFW - I stayed behind to pick up the pieces (random crap treasures that need to find good homes or go to Goodwill), work a few more days in the office, and honestly, to process it all a bit more.
(No matter how many people tell me to rip the bandaid off, I don't. I sit and peel painfully at the seams.)
When I moved into my one-bedroom last January, I never dreamed this weekend would occur. At that point I spent most of my evenings scrapbooking my last failed relationship and watching movies I'd rented from Hastings.
I never dreamed that I'd spend a summer as roommates with my sister, exploring burger joints and renting Chick Flicks baking cupcakes and laughing, crying, and taking pictures of our misadventures.
And I definitely didn't imagine that during her time in Waco we'd start talking about a boy I really liked, and then introducing him to my family, and then ring shopping, and planning a wedding, and...
I would have told you that you were crazy if this time last year you told me what was in store!
But about a year after moving to Wacko Waco (as the locals like to call it) I came to this spacious old apartment to find a room filled with wedding gifts and two people wearing wedding bands, and one of them was me.
Life is so strange, isn't it?
So many great things have happened in this past year, a fact evidenced by all the friends who came to help us out, and especially evident during a date-night to the restaurant where Mikael met my parents for the first time.
We both marveled at how our story has unfolded, while talking a bit about our future and a lot about the beauty of calamari.
We are so richly blessed... I know this. I'm grateful for this.
But, still, when I woke up this morning I couldn't shake that lingering bittersweet feeling, like when you hit that one burnt pecan in an otherwise perfect pie.
Even though I know lots of great things lie ahead, I can't seem to help but feel a little sad to say "goodbye."
Going to find the link to the old song to post here, I scrolled down to see some of the comments (always a dangerous idea).
Most of the people like or love it. They think it's "awesome," and only one because MsPinkAndGlitter thinks she's related to Tracey Lawrence somehow.
I started to worry that maybe I'm the only one that gets sad hearing it...which could mean maybe I'm the only one that gets choked up packing stuff up, and that would choose to sit in an empty apartment, reminiscing on all the good times and bad times that have led me to this exact spot, with just a vacuum, one lone potted plant (the only one I didn't manage to kill) and a stack of old magazines to sort through... instead of rushing out to enjoy life.
But then again, maybe the people that comment on YouTube videos like to keep things shorter and sweeter than me, and deep down a lot more of them feel like mrlandroverdiscovery, who said, "This is a sad song because it true life"
I couldn't have said it better myself mrland... well, I'm glad I'm not the only one who thinks so anyways.
I didn't intend to have a melancholy Memorial Day.
And I hope I didn't bring you down.
It's just not easy - at least for me - to move on quickly.
So I hope you'll say a little prayer for us - for Mikael as they unload that Uhaul, and for me as I try to let go of this place.
And a prayer that no matter what happens I rest assured in two things.
1. Yes, "every thing changes, everything cha-aaa-nngesss."
2. There is One who doesn't.