The movers will be here in the morning to begin packing us up. This weekend we have packed suitcases for the next two weeks, taken the last few pictures from the walls, and set aside some books and toys for the girls to have with them. This afternoon I am picking up keys to the hotel room we will stay in starting tomorrow night.
All of our things will end up with us in Indiana at some point, but as I look around I think about what can't be packed away. The window I watched the unexpected August rain through on the morning Bea was born. The sink where I rinsed off Ellie's lost teeth and scraped knees. The backyard stump of the ash tree that toppled over on to the house last January. The path in the floor that I paced with an unhappy baby, singing Christmas carols. The trees that we planted, the garden walls, the grape vines just now growing their first fruit.