The house was a mess.
We had transitioned from this wild idea and discernment to the actual packaging tape and stuffing of our next grand adventure. It translated to literal chaos. Yes, we were filled with joy and excitement, but also the very real moving deadline. We were slowly but surely selling, donated and organizing our possessions so that we could cut 5o0 sqft of our life.
He was only two.
But yes, he felt it, too. One day during his nap I sold his trike to a friend of his and prayed he wouldn't notice. I watched as his tantrums came a little more quickly. Was this just his age? Yes. And no. He understood. We were "Going to Harvard!" "Ride bus!" "Ride train!"
But yes, his whole life was changing and transitioning. And we could all feel it.
When he came in from the backyard at the end of playing outside while I cooked dinner, his foot caught. I watched him face-plant into the hard wood floor and braced myself for the wailing that I was sure would come.
But it didn't. He slowly lifted his head, met my gaze and said calmly and pathetically,
"I need yove."
And in that moment, I thought.
Yes. Me. Too.