There's just no other way to say this: the kids have moved away. And I hate it.
They signed the lease on the day I got hurt and started moving the day of my surgery. By the time I was home, conscious, and sober they were gone.
It has been in the works for a while but once the ball started rolling, it went fast. Because I was so out of it, I missed all of it.
I'm grateful for that. I don't know that I would have handled it well. Sure it would be fun to help unpack the kids rooms and see their excitement but still. I have gotten so used to having them around that now it seems like half the neighborhood has moved away. (well, there were five kids & two adults, I guess it did)
I miss not hearing them play outside or seeing them ride bikes past the house. I miss having dinner with them and having them just come over for a visit. I miss seeing or hearing the bus drive by and know they're not on it.
Now I join the ranks of all other aunts and uncles, birthdays and special occasions is when we get to see them. Sucks.
They're only twenty minutes away so I can see them anytime but I'd prefer to just be able to yell their names in quick succession and see them come running. The nephew is good at sending pictures and texts so there's that. It's just not the same.
In July it will be three years since those five crazy monkeys came into our lives. We will never be the same. Thank God.
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