We're moving in September. It feels too soon. We just settled into this little house, and already we're wrenching ourselves out of it.
The new house is too big. Why do we need so many bedrooms? How will we ever fill the enormous living room with our one couch and hand-me-down coffee table? It seems ridiculous.
But when I see the house sitting at the end of the field, I get flutters of excitement. I love the country. I can't wait to walk down to the barn to see Sebastian in the mornings. To retreat to the forest to dream up poems. To let my dog run wild.
I've never lived out of the city. Not really. I've lived seasonally at the ranch, but it was a temporary home. I never had to move my couch there before. Or my desk. Or my bed. These items are what really makes it a permanent home, I think.
So we'll live in the country and I will learn to drive a tractor and a horse trailer. I will drive to get the mail (a foreign concept to me). I will try not to get my car stuck in the driveway and try to keep the dog from running away. I could plant a huge garden or ride my horse right up to my kitchen window, if I wanted to.
This will be an interesting adventure.
