Moving Day: or I was moved...

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Treats for the worker bees.

Last weekend my eldest daughter, the married one, was moving to a new location. For several weeks prior, while her husband was attending school or working, my two girls worked together packing up the apartment. It is amazing what one accumulates, in not quite a year. (She will be married one year the middle of May.)

Cameo appearence of my eldest son.

From my perspective, it was lovely to see how these sisters have grown close and now work together so well. As with all siblings, there are many opportunities for growth. Delightfully for me, and for them, a true friendship has developed. (I was not always sure this was going to be the case...)
   
When moving day arrived, so did a whole posse of helpers. Friends, cousins, both sets of parents, and all of the siblings of my daugher and her husband.  Many hands make light work.

Some hand-me-down- end tables,
that have now served several generations.

All of the moves that I have had to make in my life have transpired this way. With friends and family showing up:  packing boxes, moving furniture, washing walls, bringing food, cleaning, all the while encouraging and supporting the endeavor.

My daughter's chair,
I really wish it were mine...

These communal work days are what bring us closer. It is where all of the stories come from, when we catch up on  of each other's lives and see the solid results of what love looks like. For what but love could make us clean out someone else's kitchen drawers?  To me it seems like a group hug, without ever touching.



I have never experienced a move that was accomplished by professional movers. Don't get me wrong, I am sure they do a very fine job, but it could never be better than the joy of knowing we are all in it together.