Caught in this weird dichotomy of wanting to slow things down and savour every moment that feels like it may never come again (here in our beautiful, comfortable, familiar place), while at the same time wishing for other things to hurry up and get going (when is the container that is moving our ENTIRE house actually coming?  What day do we ACTUALLY move on?  How does one get 5 people, 10 suitcases, a 60 lb dog and a hefty orange cat to and through the airport and onto a plane?!?).  Today my mind feels like it’s spinning faster, the leaves appear to be falling faster, the time seems to be flying by.   Today I just want to freeze every moment.  I want to memorize every beautiful, colourful leaf, the freshness of the fall air, the feel of my Mom’s hugs, the laughter and discussions I share with great friends.  Today is a definite “cold-feet” day. Knowing that you are leaving, that a big change is coming, makes you and everyone around you behave in interesting ways.  It seems to bring out every thank-you that is overdue, every other sentiment that you haven’t said (yet!), and many dinner invitations!:)   There is an awful tendency to apply a lot of weight to every situation, fearing it may be the last for a long time.  We are in a continuous push-pull between wishing for the future to hurry up and arrive, and consciously willing ourselves to be in the moment.   Sometimes, knowing myself, it is easier not to have too much time to prepare (and worry).  However, when moving a household 3000 miles, one doesn’t have the luxury to be too complacent and pretend it isn’t happening and be pleasantly surprised when it inevitably does.  I think that’s akin to a “head-in-the-sand” approach.

Not advisable.

Of course, I have to remind myself that we are operating in a bubble of good-byes and good wishes right now – has it always been this lovely?  I guess we go about our daily lives assuming they will always be a certain way and when a crazy family decides to seize an opportunity to pick up and move to Mexico it can throw the balance off.  We are on an extreme roller-coaster of emotions that rise and swell up with the anticipation of our impending adventure, then send us hurtling coldly downwards, as we work through the things we’ll miss and realize the things we’re losing.   As with any change in our lives, we grieve in bits and pieces as we move towards a new normal.   This “normal” we hope contains many opportunities for growth and adventure and that this stretch outside of our comfort zones will be enjoyable (or at least bearable!).  As much as we’ll miss many people, I guess ultimately, we’re more than ready for a new chapter to begin.  “Only 28 more commutes!!” my husband announced last night, having reluctantly succumbed to saying his internal monologue “out loud” for fear it might make the reality more unbearable.  But truly, that commute back and forth to Toronto has been a thorn, and exhausting.  So that should disappear in our new daily life.

And that alone, is a great thing.