Quiet

This morning, I took my parents to the airport.  I am still carrying around the sadness in my chest at watching them go.  They are some of my favorite people to be around.  They drove from New York to North Carolina with Adam and I, to keep us company and to help us move. 

We had a great trip down.  We didn’t get lost and only thought that one of the cars was going to overheat once.  (We took it to a mechanic the next morning and they couldn’t find anything wrong.  Funny).  The past six days have been a whirlwind of packing, moving, unpacking, taking things out of boxes and finding spots for them in our new apartment. 

I have been very grateful for Adam and my parents in this process.  My mom has kept us on track, cheering when we empty another box, and Adam is great at spatial relation and figuring out where everything should go.  My dad helps us put up shelves and tells us what we need to pick up at Home Depot.  I’m getting to be a pro at Home Depot, having visited every day for the last three days! 

In the unpacking process, I would rather organize my books than do the useful things that the rest of my family members seem to do with such ease.  I can do the practical things, too, but I did stand in front of the pantry shelves for a few minutes the other day, staring at them blankly, before deciding where the cereal should go.  My family helps me along, keeps me on track, and makes the process more fun. 

It has been a great gift to have my parents here.  I love that they know what our apartment looks like, that they have met some of our new neighbors—they even know the names of the neighbors’ dogs—and that we’ve all toured the campus where Adam is starting work this week as an assistant chaplain.  They have a sense of context for us now, and the past week has been full of movement, energy, and tangible things getting done.  We’ve been exhausted at the end of each day, but it’s been a good type of shared exhaustion, where we have worked together on a common goal.

Now my parents are flying home, Adam is at work, and Filo is sleeping on the floor of our bedroom.  I am alone in my office and all is quiet except for the hum of the neighbors’ air conditioner and the occasional car passing by.  It is a welcome change after the near constant movement of the last week.  Now I can begin to settle in emotionally as well as physically.  I am excited to put the last things away and to explore my new city, and to have quiet time to think and process and rest.

But.  I miss the immediacy of my mom being there to help decide where the pictures should be hung on the walls, and of my dad painting the new shelves that we are using as a pantry.  They are great company and there are few people that Adam and I laugh with more.  Their companionship—in person and from a distance—is such a blessing as Adam and I walk through another time of transition.

The quiet now that they are gone is a mixed blessing.