We had lived in that town home for four years, and if the time span alone wasn't enough, we also brought home two babies. That means major stuff-overload for this sentimental hoarder.
Like these Angels posters ... Mac drew and taped them on every single door.
How could I just throw those away??
My scramble to finish up resulted in some neglected children ... which equaled Mac playing the Wii nonstop and Belle coloring (with permanent marker) on herself, snacking constantly, and falling asleep in random places.
Luckily our Californians took the kids from time to time, and then came my family.
With Trent and Rachel on the kids, Mom and I on cleaning/organizing, and Dad fixing up little broken things around the house, it was a breeze.
And we were out too fast.
Four massive missionaries showed up on moving day.
And the Hollands.
And Zack and Ashlee ... who, ironically enough, had just moved to Southern California three weeks earlier. We finally had familial claim on somebody down there, and we up and left them. Shameful!
Mark had his last day at Holland Chiropractic. The morning we were moving. He saw, once again, over 20 patients in two hours. He had said good bye to Dr. Holland the day before ... and did admit to me that it was a challenge to hold in the tears. Dr. Holland became a bit of a father-figure to us out there, and Mark especially felt a real twinge at moving on. We are so grateful to have had Holland Chiropractic as our jumping-off point.
With 20 final patients healed, Mark packed it up and jumped in the car with my dad to pick up our moving truck. I miraculously sold the last of our big items on Craig's List that morning; paying for our move and leaving enough room in the truck for all our necessaries.
We spent the rest of the day packing and eating pizza with all our helpers, and then said goodbye to our angel of a landlord. Hugo gave us one last, "God bless", and we were out.
And actually ...
Of all the drives to Utah I've done over the years, this was the easiest.
Mac rode with Mark and Trent in the altima. Dad and Mom drove the moving truck. And Rach, Belle, and I kept each other company for 12 hours snacking, singing, and telling stories about high school and boys.
We did have one adventure; Mark had a few bolts come off of his back tire, but luckily we were just outside of St. George and drove the last few miles extra slow ... making it to his mom's house safely.
When we finally did roll into Salt Lake City ... I felt giddy. We were at the height of fall; every leaf was radiantly bright and the evening felt crisp. I missed crisp.
I walked up to our front door:
And was met by a solid 15 family and friends here to get us moved in.
I really truly felt like I finally made it home!
They moved us in quick as could be, and my sister-in-law Katie even thought to bring a fold-up table and dinner for everyone. Love that woman.
Every room looked like this. Turned out this pack-rat didn't get rid of enough stuff. Uuuugggh.
There was, however, one important member who did not make the trip.
Poor Pujols got left in the car in St. George overnight and ... shhhhhh ... he froze to death.
With the whole new house/friends thing, I just couldn't break the news to Mac.
So meet the new Pujols:
"Mom, why hims so tiny?" Mac has asked ... mysterious little guy must've shrunk over the move. But don't worry, with plenty of food, tiny Pujols has grown back to his regular size.
And we are happy.
Really, Salt Lake City has felt like the perfect place to me so far. The mountains, seasons, and LDS base feel like home to me, but the big city benefits and substantial amount of diversity bring just enough California to it to create the perfect blend for us.
I do feel like we're meant to be here.
Love your posts, Allie. I'm so glad you're meant to be here!
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