That's Why We Have to Move


My first born, a first grader, had his last piano lesson yesterday with a teacher we were so very fortunate to find. This last lesson with his first piano teacher kicked off a series of "lasts" for him as we prepare to move very far away in two short weeks.

This teacher, sweet as could be, showered him with stuffed animals and hugs and we said our goodbyes cheerfully enough. We would miss one another, but he would email her. They would keep in touch.

A couple hours later, out of the clear blue, my baby boy dove into my lap head first bawling to beat the band. I figured he was tired and fighting with his brother. But no. He said he was going to miss SMU, the location of his lessons the last two semesters.

What he meant was he was going to miss her. And the place. And everything else he was just realizing he was leaving behind.

Once the valve was opened, he could scarcely keep his composure. He sniffled through teeth brushing and wiped his eyes while pulling on his pajamas. As I tucked his brother in just down the hall I heard him talking to his lovies, choking through the tears. I picked up snippets.

School. Teachers. Friends.

Why do we even have to move?

And my heart cracked in two.

I climbed into bed with him and he laid out all the reasons why this sucked so hard for him. And I listened. And I agreed. And I cried with him. After we worked out all the bad, I asked him if we could talk about all the good.

Let me guess, he said, snow.

I laughed and said that yes, the weather was going to be different but that's not the really good part.

The really good part was Daddy. That once we get up there with him, we will be home because home is wherever we are all together.

He observed that we aren't really home right now, then, because Daddy isn't with us.

Exactly, I said. And that's why we have to move.


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