Saying Goodbye to My Home of 20 Years

This is us yesterday morning in the two seconds before the kids left for school and the movers entered our place to break everything down. Not the best picture of everybody, but we took it in one take, with a self timer and then Mike and the kids were out the door. The kids and the movers literally passed each other in two separate elevators.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to properly express how emotional it felt to leave my home of 20 years (I’ve lived in this apartment longer than I lived in my childhood home), but I do want to acknowledge that the thing I was most worried about turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Last Thursday, Mike went on a five day Park City ski trip with his college friends and came back at midnight Monday, the night before our move. THIS WAS UNDENIABLY CRAZY, but the trip was planned way before we knew we were moving and Mike really wanted to go.

I was not happy about it, and rage texted him several times during the trip (“this was a mistake,” “we should have left at least a day in between,” “Harlow is upset that we are not honoring our last night with a family dinner”). But in retrospect, Mike not being home the week before we moved was a good thing.

Here’s why…

When it comes to big jobs where there is LOTS of physical labor involved, Mike is a doer. He has a plan, wants things to happen in an orderly fashion and doesn’t apply any breaks until it’s done. This is how he maintains his sanity during an otherwise overwhelming task. I understand that and I’m usually the one taking orders, because most of the time, his way gets things done quickly and efficiently. He can be a pain in the ass, but he has effectively removed the burden of timing and logistics from me over and over again throughout our life together.

This was a big change though. One of my biggest ever. From the second Mike started packing up the apartment, I started panicking. Mainly because I thought there would still be an opportunity to take photos and videos to remember our space (I never made a before and after video of our renovation!), but almost immediately there were boxes everywhere. I kept telling him not to touch the stuff out in the open or on the shelves (“Don’t pack the books”), because then it would truly be game over. I know to most people (certainly Mike), caring about photos sounds crazy, but that’s how my brain works. I panic thinking about all the opportunities to document that I missed and will never have the chance to do again.

I think it’s become popular to make fun of this mentality— “doing it for the ‘gram.” But the truth is, this is who I’ve always been. I’ve always been the person telling stories, taking pictures, putting together albums, making mix tapes, saving mementos, writing down funny quotes, remembering inside jokes and sharing them with my friends. I have scrapbooks from school, camp, my teen tour, college, way before any of this happened digitally, with so much time and thought put into each of them. I looked at one scrapbook from the late 80s recently, filled with pictures and handwritten text, and thought— who did I think was going to read this thing???

While Mike was away, I continued packing. Filling up boxes, cleaning out closets and putting necessities into suitcases for me and the girls. And then on Monday, with Ruth there to help, I decided to do what I needed to do for myself. We shifted boxes from one side of the the room to the other so that I could take one last round of pictures and film each room, for the “before and after” renovation videos I never made (but now could make if I ever want to) of what is now my old apartment.

I know that home is where your family is. I’ve repeated these words to my kids all week. But this place served us so well. We renovated it after living there for over 15 years, went through hell and back to get it done (most of you guys know the story) and ultimately, optimized every single inch of the space (shout out to Christa from Studio ID) for our family and whoever lives there next. It has been excellent home throughout so many different stages of my life and I am proud of how I left it— at its best.

Yesterday, as we were driving to our new apartment, following the moving truck, I told Mike that him being away allowed me to take my time and document everything exactly the way I wanted. I thought I was being crazy, but actually, it all helped me feel much more at peace about leaving. He has his process and I have mine.

I think he finally understood me in that moment. All those times I make us stand still for a photo, it’s not just about posting on Instagram so that everyone can see it.

It’s making the memory stand still for a second, so that I can move on.

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