I Think I Shed a Tear

This week, I spent time packing and coordinating a move from my home.  Our family belongings were boxed, crated and carted.  Not to be taken to the excitement and possibilities represented by a new home where our family can thrive; but to the nondescript hollowness of a storage facility.  One along an over-grown and forgotten road just off the highway near where it intersects with the airport’s runway.

Just stuff perhaps.  But our stuff.  The stuff that holds memories that the extended Hicks family and friends created – now held secure with a padlock behind an orange garage door.

And I think I shed a tear.

The next morning I awoke, following a short and fitful night’s sleep, with a headache that surely follows only a long night of loud music and Jack Daniels.  Except, I could find no explanation in this case.  My evening only included a cup of yogurt and a single Heineken and a midnight run to Wal-Mart for boxer shorts.

Nevertheless, the throbbing and banging that I was experiencing would only be soothed by a handful of Tylenol, a long shower and some of Aunt Charisse’s cheese grits from Kroger.

The reason for this torture?  We’ve decided to lease our home to some lovely family during our sojourn to Nashville.

I bought this house ‘cause Crystal said she wanted it.  I worked closely with the contractors to make the basement a place where we’d all like to hang out.  Crystal picked furniture to make the place simple, elegant, grand and comfortable – designing her castle to match her style.  And I presided this week over its disassembly, padding and shrink-wrapping – before having it all deposited in a lifeless gated community with no access after 9pm.

And I promised her that after this move to the SWATs she wouldn’t have to move again- unless opportunity and circumstances absolutely required it.  Maybe they had.

After four years of the Hicks family living in separate cities, the boys becoming teenagers and professional opportunities persisting in unexpected places, it was a good time to find a way to have dinner together most nights.

The idea of maintaining dual residences is good in theory, but tough to pull off for most anyone I’m sure.  Choices had to be made.

So after an elixir of grits and grape juice I head to my last appointment on this trip.

As I pull into the driveway – noticing the numbers on the mailbox, the knockout roses in bloom, the red clay on the basketball goal, and how much that maple tree has grown…  behind me follows two matching BMW X5’s – cars I’d never seen before.

I gathered myself and stepped out my own car with a plastic smile and an outstretched hand.

The place looked different now.  Vast, sparkling, almost new.  Well, except for the holes I made in the garage walls to hang bicycles, and the impressions in the floor where Harrison’s piano sat, and the marks on the door frame where H4 practiced chin-ups, and the nicks in the kitchen cabinets from the pots, feet and balls that have banged against them as Crystal baked cakes, canned jelly or made Thanksgiving dinner.

Ok, not so new.  But ours, and pert near perfect.

After a brief tour, I traded keys and a garage opener for a check; and then I stood for a few seconds.  Not sure what to do next…  I guess this is my cue to leave.

The lease was signed, inspection passed, funds exchanged… And I think I shed a tear.

The deed is done.  The commitment made.  The chapter closed?  A step out on faith – towards a new land and new possibilities.

Overhead lower.  Family together.  The title still mine.  Zillow is my friend.  And I can go home again, right?

But I still think I may have actually shed a tear.

• Category: Dream Big Then Execute