Friday, October 21, 2011


We need to clean out my mom's house.  

We need to rent a moving truck, and pack up whatever furniture and stuff we want.  "And our bins!" says Amy.  And our bins -- of memorabilia and photos, Christmas stuff, and Amy's personal items.

We need to do it.  We need to do it while it's still warm rather than make this harder than needs be.  We need to do it so we can have an estate sale and turn off the rest of the utilities.  We need to do it so we can move on to the next thing.

But once we do, we'll never spend the night there again.  I'll never lay on mom's couch and watch crime shows again, or sleep in Mom's bed, or lay next to Amy in her room talking late into the night.  We won't eat any more meals in the kitchen, watching the dogs prancing in the yard.  

Then we won't have our Home, and when we go Home, it will be to our respective homes, not the place we share.  And for Amy it will that hell hole she lives in.

And Mom will be that much farther away and unreachable.  

And because of these things, I haven't done it.

Even though we already said we spent our last night.  Even though there isn't even electricity at the house anymore.  

We could do it Saturday.  

I don't think we will.  


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