To My Husband: Be patient with me.

It seems such a silly thing to say, as you are the most patient person I know. Never raising your voice, or rushing my primping. Always willing to turn back or help me find my keys, phone, purse, or... you get the picture. But please be patient with me.

I can feel moving day creeping in. And along with it the anxiety of change is rustling in my bones. The packing thus far has been surface level, nothing important. Nothing to really make my heart lurch at the thought of moving. But now, now the real stuff is starting to get put away in boxes and I know, I can see, and I can feel the change coming.

You know how I am with this kind of stuff. A forever wildflower and mildly free spirit, the change issue thing would probably surprise most people. But not you. You know me better than I know myself most times, and I know myself pretty dang well. But you have seen me through changes. College, college, college, marriage, moving, college, baby, end of Downton Abbey, toddler. Now, moving, again. So be patient with me.

Be patient with me as I agonize over lighting options.

Be patient with me as delay packing only to overwhelm myself later.

Be patient with me as I obsess over shades of white, greige, and tan.

Be patient with me as I linger at the house I said I couldn't wait to get out of.

Be patient with me as I dread going to the house I loved.

Be patient with me as I weigh every window covering option known to man.

Be patient with me when I say "Let's just stay here." or "I think I'll just be a squatter here."
  --We both know I wouldn't last long.

Be patient with me as I continue to add to our "To Do" list at the new house. I'm just so excited to make it pretty.

Be patient with me as I longingly look at our open spaces outside the kitchen window and suddenly don't notice the hustle and bustle of the farm.

Be patient with me as I dread the noise of matter how small said town is.

Be patient with me as I talk a little less and breath deep a little more.

Be patient with me as I stare off into corners of the house where we started marriage, found out we were having a baby, and then started to raise that baby. It's change. It's hard for me. But I'm working on it.

I think our neighbor who also lived in this house said it perfectly, 
"It was never the house of my dreams but a lot of my dreams came true in that house." 

Her words make my eyes well and I think when I read them to you, they made yours too.

Be patient with me. I will get through. We will get through.


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