It's never easy. Or fun.
This time has been especially hard for me. We are moving into a new apartment, in the same apartment complex. We are downsizing from a three-bedroom to a two-bedroom. It makes sense for us, since we never actually got around to using the third bedroom, except a few weeks ago when some friends crashed with us for a couple of weekends. It was supposed to be a nursery for our now nine month-old.
He never slept anywhere but with us. And still does.
So, we opted to save a couple of hundred dollars a month and downsize. Our new apartment is just as huge as the other one was (and with a bigger sunroom!), it's just missing the other bedroom.
I had a hard time because I was attached to our place and the memories there. That's where we brought our newborn son. It was his first home. Our nine year-old is used to moving; his first home was in New Hampshire, where he was born. Leaving there was hard too.
I kept going over in my mind the things that I would miss about our old apartment, simple things like the dimmer light in the dining room, the desk drawers in the sunroom, the extra cabinets in the kitchen. I know that sounds silly, but those things are associated with some of the memories I have of our family living there. It was hard to get used to the idea of leaving, even though we chose to leave. And coming into the new space was upsetting at first.
I'm constantly finding things that I like about this place. Like the bigger sunroom (and I thought our other sunroom was nice!). The larger bedroom (and our other one wasn't small). Living on the second floor (which has its disadvantages, but for me, the advantages far outweigh them). And watching my baby enjoy himself crawling all over the place! He's now up to four steps, by the way.
I can already feel the peace in our new home, and I know we will be blessed here. The angels have followed us from the old place to the new one, just like I asked.
And I'm serious about the angels. My son sees them all the time.