It has been such an incredible whirlwind of events leading up to our move to Australia that its hard to know where to start. I guess the best way to begin is with impressions of leaving our home in Houston, the wonderful state of Texas and all of the US behind. We won’t go into leaving the four kids… All I know is that they have been raised to be a close-knit group and to share life’s adventures together. We are most appreciative that they have each other to lean on. This is a bit of a backward picture, but I took it one evening when we were out celebrating a birthday in Austin. The point is we know without a doubt they have each other’s backs, and that’s just about all that counts when you’re a million miles away (might as well be!) and you worry like we do. Enough said about that.
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| Togetherness… Z style!~ |
So, after many careful discussions
regarding rather sound decisions on practical financial matters, we decided to put our much-loved home up for sale, which was much more difficult than we ever imagined. Unfortunately, although most would say luckily, the house sold in almost two weeks. So… my carefully-laid plans to appear cooperative and let it stew on the market while I pretend it’s ok – all the while waiting for the hubby to finally see the light were thwarted soundly by the cha-ching of a few hundred thousand dollars from a sweet, equally-sentimental family
who wanted to make beautiful memories of their own.
Damn. Hate it when a great plan fails!!! So now, we’re trading these tropical Houston water views:
For this tropical Brisbane water view:
And how exactly does one begin to describe the memories of a beautiful home packed up and professionally saran-wrapped for storage and shipping one room at a time? With the events that transposed the lives of our kids from young children to full adulthood, and all the myriad life activities packed in? Every room – every single inch of available storage space is jam-packed with memorabilia… tales of many spectacularly rich family moments, and so many imprints of small hearts facing first impressions of life.
A tiny baby shoe here and there, carefully packaged envelopes with blonde curls from first haircuts, a thousand baby artifacts, sketch books, trophies, school papers, prom dresses… And uniforms out the wazoo from almost every sport known to mankind… Summer camp letters, some hilarious Christmas lists, kid diaries and papers- proudly written in somewhat lopsided cursive—– all of which held such tender memories and value beyond any dollar figure I could ever hope to hold in my hot sweaty unpacking hands.
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| Our beautiful home |
Note to self: Must not EVER leave a highly sentimental, emotion-laden mom to sift through 4600 sq feet of possessions and over 100 attic boxes of family junk. Three weeks at approximately 30 boxes a day = a river of salty tears meandering their way down one highly-flooded memory lane. Not a good thing at all… Especially not when the wine bar has been depleted and the liquor cabinet long-ago raided by a plethora of young adults whose tastes have unfortunately graduated from cheap college anything-you-can-get-your-hands-on alcohol to excellent vintage wines and expensive liquor.
It was nice to know that the sentimental makings I could bring myself to part with went to some wonderful charities. The tiny shoes, baby clothes, toys and furniture will be lovingly embraced once again by small hands who hopefully will treasure them as much as the eight tiny hands we raised once did. These thoughts were what I held on to most as I let go of the memories and emotions long enough to carefully place them into boxes for several shelters and Habitat Stores. Somehow through the tears I recognized that their value as useful possessions multiplies tremendously when grateful hands once again possess them in wear and in play.
Fast-forward to our arrival in Brisbane two days before G20. Our hotel is very near Obama’s. The flurry of activity and heightened security detail make it imperative that we get our apartment set up as soon as possible so we can escape the frenzy of media, protesters and police. We arrive to an empty apartment, a starkly barren kitchen and a patio with a few weeds, welcomed by a giant water lizard (called an Eastern Water Dragon) and several large active spiders who scurried far too closely for my liking to find out who their new visitors were. The bottle of wine we carried in with our suitcases helps to convey that this is a celebratory event, despite the rather stark reminder that these empty rooms do not even remotely resemble a home ready for our small family of two.
We’ll start the new memories from here… BRING IT ON BRISBANE!!!
– hazardous spiders, ominous looking water dragons and all!
(see below for a snapshot of our friendly welcoming party!
