I remember feeling this way before... I was 13 and we were moving to Arizona. We lived in a suburb of Milwaukee that (in my adolescent mind) was idyllic. We lived in a huge brick house and I had a bedroom that was larger than I have since had in the last dozen years. I loved our church, my school, my friends and moving was going to be traumatic.
I've moved five times since then and have learned to let go of a lot of the attachment that remains with loving a place of habitat. Except now. Yes, I knew I wasn't going to live in this apartment forever. But this is where my life with Joshua began. This is where we brought our wedding shower gifts and where he first brought me home after our honeymoon. It was where my daughter was born. It was where we celebrated birthdays, anniversaries, promotions...
Roomie reminds me that this is our first move together. Before this, it was His stuff and Her stuff... now it's ours. Stuff from our travels, our wedding, our mutual tastes. We get to decide together how our new home will be pieced together. Roomie sat in our dining room (sans table) of the new place last night and as I stood unpacking spices, dishes, and boxes that just arrived from Turkey, we laughed about blunders in the old place (when my brother was living with us).
This start is new, and it's together... and I'm excited. Maybe we'll have Baby #2 in the new place... wouldn't that just be memorable?!