I haven’t run a marathon (yet) but I kind of think this must be what that last mile feels like. You’re exhausted beyond reason and imagined human endurance, and yet at the same time, you’re so close…. you can see it… and you know there is no quitting now.

The windows are bare, and it’s starting to feel like the Grinch came through and took every last thing, even the roast beast. That oval stained glass in the window has hung in the front window of every home I’ve ever lived in. My mother made it when I was a little girl. It matters to me. A lot.

This is the command-center of the home right now. My life revolves around the tape-gun, flowered x-acto knife and giant stinky markers. Somehow having everything safely gathered like this makes me feel the illusion of control. And then… then I go in my room and see this:

These are the results of me spending all afternoon doing every speck of laundry in the house, and sorting all the kids clothes. Out of sight are three enormous boxes that are going to the yard sale. Any clothes that I pack and haul WILL FIT, so help me. It also occurred to me that we probably don’t need ten-months’ worth of cold-weather clothes. The kids most likely won’t need so much flannel or gore-tex snowsuits for school in Virginia. This is gonna be one killer yard sale. Exhibit A- the boys’ closet:

And then look what happened today:

She’s been wiggling it for weeks, and today she was frustrated and asked me to please yank it out so she could eat without it bugging her. I obliged, and she was delighted.

Remember what I said about the house looking like Grinch had torn through here? Yep. All that remains of my craft room. The washer and dryer are sold, my bike is sold, the shelving units are sold. The farm table and benches? Ha, only a hundred people have asked… that baby goes with me. Several friends have already come and perused the fabric but it’s embarrassing how much I still have.

Three finals down, one to go. Thursday at noon, local time.

In all this chaos and upheaval, there was the tiniest moment today of… joy. Abby and I were on our way to meet a friend for lunch. She was wiggling her tooth and chatting from the backseat, and there was genuine sun shining for the first time in weeks. Rolling the window down and training my fingers over the waves of air as we zoomed over the rolling hills, a song I love blasting on the stereo, for just a brief moment, I was overwhelmed with joy. This is right. I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing, and life is sweet.

It’s really good that happened because two hours later my car died in the parking lot of my friend’s salon. And thus it goes…