The day finally came and went.
Our last day in our tiny apartment.
Our first day back in God's country to stay.
The U-haul was packed.
Our pallet was on the floor.
We were tired beyond our wits.
Yet, we couldn't sleep more than a few hours because our minds wouldn't stop thinking of all the things that needed to be done. Not to mention, the floor didn't offer much support or comfort.
At 5:00 next morning we gathered up odds-and-ends, said a little sad good-bye to our tiny apartment, and met our neighbor for breakfast.
He had helped us load the U-haul the day before, but we didn't want to say good-bye yet.
Panera doesn't open until 6:00, that's why we didn't leave any earlier.
300 miles later, home sweet home.
The Little House became much littler.
Since we have gotten here, we have had to 'bleed the pipes', sweep the floor, easy-off the stove, sweep the floor, Mrs. Meyer's the refrigerator, sweep the floor, pinesol the bathroom, sweep the floor, bleach the porch, sweep the floor, Kilz and paint furniture, sweep the floor, sort and clean the washhouse, sweep the floor, hang decor, sweep the floor, tear down the ramp off the porch, sweep the floor, remove a deep freezer from the porch, and sweep the floor.
But things are looking like home around here.
I started my preceptorship this past Monday with a doctor here and will do that until graduation. Mr. Z starts back to work at the restaurant his grandparents opened.
The air is sweet. Our bodies ache. The stars are clear. Our hands cramp. The rain hits a tin roof. Our hearts are content.