We have moved seven times in our 21 years of marriage (well, more than that, but I don’t count the “same city” moves). And it’s been great! We’ve met amazing people. We have lovely friends all over the southeastern US. But you’ll understand after moving that many times (three of those moves taking place in about three years) that I am pretty happy to be as planted as you can get in my husband’s profession.
We have now lived in Macon for over two years. So maybe you’ll understand that when I dreamed last night that we were moving again, it quickly became a nightmare.
It wasn’t our best nights sleep anyway. Noah’s leg got in an uncomfortable position, and I had to get up to help him get comfortable again. And that’s no biggie, but then I just could not get back to sleep.
After tossing and turning a while, my rest was fitful, and that awful dream began. First Drew comes in and tells me that he took another position (a lesser position, too. I was angry about it the whole dream). So Noah and I are driving to this new town (don’t know where I left poor Eli and Isaiah), and I drop him off somewhere random and walk around. Keep in mind that I don’t drop Noah off anywhere random.
Then I get lost, and I’m freaking out trying to get back to Noah. Freaking. Out. Then the dream really goes off the rails where I befriend a couple of Amazon-sized women who agree to help me find Noah. Listen, I come from a long line of crazy dreamers, okay?
Anyway, in the midst of all that, I also start freaking out because my phone won’t work, and all I can think is, “I need to call my real estate agent to get our house on the market!” See?? I told you I’m not completely sane!!
But then I wake up. The sun is beginning to shine, the boys are all sleeping soundly, and we are comfortably settled in Macon. I get a cup of coffee, and I walk into the front room to this sweet face:
And now I get to have a good laugh about the fact that I was *still* trying to get my house sold in the midst of that crazy dream.
Leave a Reply