The Summer of Unpacking

For the majority of our married life we have been on the move. I understand that most people look at us like we are crazy. I have heard the whispers on middle school parent night, the eye rolls when we mention packing, people don’t understand nor have they ever asked.

How far back can I go?

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I remember the apartment on Amaya, just my mom and I but my aunts and grandma living in the same complex. My other grandparents and aunt and uncle just down the road. We lived close to family although we couldn’t afford to buy.

Then mom got married again and they bought a house—1438 Swallow Drive. It is still our anchor, our home away from home, our kids’ summer getaway, our honey do list. But I left at 18 and made my way to the desert southwest.

Dorms then apartments finally the condo then another apartment and then a room in a house until a fancy apartment with my best friend from home. And then overnight Seattle.

Corporate housing and then my own place followed by a move to the lake. Tim joined me there and we got married and pregnant. Maybe not in that order.

A new house in the country that felt like the suburbs and then deployment. And heartbreak. And loss. And confusion and pain. Back to school, change of careers, PTSD.

We moved again what felt like was overnight to another new home east of the mountains. Our dream home. And job. But alas, another deployment and a transition back home that was less than ideal. Horrible bosses and a need to leave. What you don’t know is that I’m the steady one. I’m the rock. I know it is hard to believe if you know me and ever expect me to show up on time. It seems funny to me now—Tim has guilt over the moves, I just saw them as a grand adventure.

Once we asked the kids who did they think had been married before and they all said me. When in fact, it was their steady. Their rock.

You can be something to someone and a completely different something to another, I imagine. That’s how it is with us. The moves were no ones fault, just an order of events and doing everything we could to survive. Always putting our relationship first.

So then, a move back to our actual nest, Redmond. The first place I met him would become our new home. Our only real comfort until now. A place where we could settle into ourselves, make our own decisions, be with the people that made us shine.

Put the process. I almost forget how hard it was.

A friend of ours had a house they were renting out in Gold Bar of all places. Rural, remote, a little sketchy even. The house was divine for us with a giant space for the boys and a yard built for obstacle courses. And we were there exactly four months.

The funny thing about the moves is that I always unpack, put pictures on the walls*, find a spot to be creative. Many of our moves have happened in the summer. Which isn’t really true. Maybe two of them. I’ll come back to that . . .

We knew we wanted to be in Redmond, I got a teaching job at Rockwell, the kids were settled with school and the best daycare in the world, but we had our house for sale in Wenatchee, the commute to Gold Bar was an hour each way minimum, and we had no money in the bank. There was a crazy yellow house for rent but we didn’t qualify. I talked the landlord into it and we moved in December of 2011.

We loved that crazy yellow house with the hexagon and the wood paneling, the basement made for baseball brothers and the world’s best neighbors. Eventually it would go on the market and we had to find a new place. Our friends were selling, they would work with us to do a lease to own. We moved into the Wolf house using the crazy Russian movers to go just a few miles. We had a lot of hope. And then I lost my job and couldn’t figure out the details. This time it was my turn to feel the guilt.

First Christmas in Redmond.

We moved into a great house in a horrible, no good, very bad neighborhood. Still in Redmond but no longer the vibe. We were just remembering how the neighbors who never were seen outside called the cops on us the first night we hosted YoungLife. But, Mason could walk to school and everyone stayed in their places with their friends. The house was great for hosting, the yard small but fun. But we were still renting and the landlord was a nightmare.

So I found another space and we moved the week before Christmas. I put the tree with the ornaments in the back of my car and moved it fully decorated.

Mason had started coming to school with me and Cooper was driving, Thatcher already in Arizona.

And then COVID. We couldn’t have predicted what would come next but it was a complete blessing to have moved. Our space in Woodinville provided a better house layout and a yard that would prove to be our saving grace for lockdown. A deck, a playhouse, the woods, even a makeshift A mountain. Maybe even better neighbors than at the yellow house.

And then a call back to the desert southwest.

We had learned from the move to Wenatchee better to see about a neighborhood before settling in. We rented in Lakewood and Mason immediately made friends. We loved the area both for the community and location. We put a bid on a house in the neighborhood and it came back under the appraisal. And then this house—a little further out, but there was something about it.

So, after all the moves, the angst, the packing and unpacking, the boxes, the bins, the movers, the lost trucks, the unfathomable money wasted, we bought our home. And we have been here two years. It is perfection. Our neighbors are incredible, the community kind and quiet. I can sit at my desk and only see pool maintenance guys drive by all day.

And it is summer again.

I mentioned that we moved in the summer. But that was mostly in Redmond—originally to Gold Bar and then from the yellow house to the Wolf house to the North Redmond house. And because I teach, a lot of my creative energy is used in the summer. We paint and craft, sew and embroider, go on ferry boats and camp. I’d get us settled—pictures on the walls, pantry organized but my things would wait. I even bought a new power supply for my sewing machine one time because I had no idea where I had packed the other one.

So, I have this box. It has felt and floss, needles and fabric, a Redmond library fabric sleeve and some cross stitch. It has moved with us each time. I know because it is a gift box from Red Envelope. And Red Envelope was sold in 2009. So it has moved as-is at least eight times.

The irony is that I’ve never even considered it a problem. I just get stuff out of it when I need it. Until today.

Today, I unpacked it. I put everything in the box in a spot in the house where it can live and be used and find its own joy.

As I unpacked it that is when I realized all this and moved up here to write it down. I noticed it was a Red Envelope box which is weird, too, because I just bought two Scott Galloway books. One for Cooper and one for me.

I feel badly getting rid of the box now that it is empty, but alas, it is time to settle in. I’ll call it the summer of unpacking because everyone needs a distraction from the research they are supposed to be doing for their doctorate!

All that to say, we have moved a lot. More than normal. But now we don’t so you can come visit! We can even embroider together, I have a great set up!

*One time I was moving from Redmond to Seattle and Tim came to help me move. And the pictures were still on the walls, I hadn’t packed a thing. In fact, we used paper grocery bags to move the kitchen. It is shocking we are still together because we hadn’t really even started dating at that point. Poor guy at least knew what he was getting himself into!