Moving on

We have arrived – safe, sound and fully techno functional – in our new home. Hoo-ray! It's been sunny every day since we moved in, so much so that we're wondering if we haven't stumbled across a unique ecosystem. Perhaps Mother Nature has simply decided to display a sky that's as blue as the language which preceded the move we thought would never happen. Either way, it is a joy. And we're happy.
Interestingly, the emotion I felt on leaving our old home rather took me by surprise. It shouldn't have done, as it is a loss of a sort. But we'd only been there for four years, and, while it had been a happy four years, I wasn't particularly sad to be leaving. But that all changed after THE longed-for phone call came through to say the monies had cleared and you can now pick up/drop off the keys. Things went from calm to anxious as we hurried to pack the last few remaining essentials (kettle and milk) before dashing out of the front door behind the removal men. Just as I was turning the key in the lock, my other half said "this is it then" and I suddenly felt this huge wave of sadness, and horror that I was about to just run out of the door without some sort of meaningful leave-taking. I opened the front door again and stood in the hallway, taking in one last look around. So we said "goodbye" to the house, thanked it for all the good times, and left...
As I drove away I thought about the sense of panic I felt at not having said goodbye. I did think to myself, if I feel like this over a house, how does it feel to hear a loved-one has suddenly and unexpectedly gone forever? Forgive me for making the comparison between a house and a life. But loss is loss. Some losses are immense, and some are momentary. This was momentary but it made its point.