This is it. Our last night in Rhode Island. When we moved here three years ago, you couldn't have convinced me that I'd ever shed a tear over this place and yet here I am getting that lump in my throat for at least the sixth time today. I still vividly remember sitting in our bedroom one of those first February days we lived here, staring out the window at the abysmal winter weather, listening to the unfamiliar snap and bang of the steam radiators, feeling horribly homesick and absolutely certain we had made the worst mistake of our lives. But here I am on the last night and my heart aches even thinking about taking one last look around and then closing the door behind me forever. While it was only three years, it felt like a very long and very full three years. This house will always hold a special place in my heart because this is where I brought two of my babies home and because I feel like this is where we became our family. So as I think about leaving tomorrow, I have that sad and creepy feeling I get every time I consciously take a turn down a different path, abandoning another possible path forever. It's a feeling that's always been hard for me to put into words, so I'll steal someone elses:
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden.