It's not something I'm terribly good at. I thought seriously about titling this post "Anticipation," but that word connotes pleasant motion: perching on the edge of my seat, scribbling "to-do" lists, busily packing, eager action. Instead, I chose the word "Waiting," which I equate with long lines at the Post Office, a doctor's office, the bank. Waiting isn't something that seems pleasant, but is something that must be suffered through.
We (the children and I) are two weeks away from our departure. There's not much to do around here in the way of packing and sorting; I'm just throwing most of our things into our suitcases. The nicest thing about the "move" part of our international move, is that we came with only the clothing we would need. Throughout the year I have purged worn-out and out-grown clothing, especially that of Z. (M's clothes will be needed in a few years, I'm thinking.) All that purging has left room for some of the treasures that we can't leave behind.
Hopefully our repatriation will be easier than the move to Athens, which was fraught with the unknown. At least we're moving back to the same house, the same cars, the same paperwork.
The real kicker is the heat(and lack of AC), which reduces me to an incoherent puddle at around noon. The above picture was taken at around 8 pm and 90 degrees, at Z's school field day last week. Thank heaven the school had the foresight to schedule it for the evening, rather than in the glaring sun.
Here's to the next two weeks!