"don't close the door!" when the three big kids clamber in the car and shut echo out so that she can't get in. seriously, that's just mean.
"don't close the door!" when the children are playing upstairs, running and slamming doors while laughing and yelling. i can just visualize a finger getting smashed.
"don't close the door." while echo "helps" to put groceries away. i leave all cabinets and fridge doors open while i unload. time saver.
"don't close the door." as the children run outside to play. i need to hear them from the kitchen as i clean up after the meal.
"don't close the door." as i open the dishwasher. i like to have them air-dry overnight.
"don't close the door." i say to heath as we go to sleep at night. i want to make sure the children know they can come in at any time.
i have wanted to sit down and write about my last couple of days while in london and yet, the days (and now weeks) are starting to go by. i feel as though i did not put a final stamp on my time there. i left it open and undone. messy and without closure. i don't like to leave things in any of these ways so i needed to sit down and write.
our last few days were just what i thought they would be, rushed, stressful and quick. our last few days were unexpected in that i thought we would be able to do just a little bit more before we left, a few more sites to see, a couple more places to go. and our last days were everything i hoped they would be, sweet goodbyes to friends and neighbors, trainers, baristas and david. our last few days held a little bit of every emotion and it was all wrapped into one. i bet that's the way that most goodbyes usually go.
saying goodbye to our porters was tough. the children and i wrote them letters and we went by and said our thanks and gave our farewells. it was difficult to leave them, the "safety", that they had been for almost two years for us. these men had kept up with our going and coming on a daily basis. i think it's safe to say that they knew us better than most, if by only watching how we go in and out all day long. a continuous revolving door. not to mention their desk was right by our front door. i'm sure they heard more than they wanted to. and our huge front window was right where they positioned themselves during the day. i'm guessing they saw enough as well. poor guys.
we said goodbye to Flat 1. i walked through each room as the children waited outside talking with the porters. i took in the sights, the smells, the sounds. it brought me back to the day we first moved in and how we began this journey in the first place. we had filled this flat with love and laughter, tears, potty training, bedtime stories, cooked turkeys, burnt dinners, movie nights, dance parties...the list is endless. we had filled it and now it was empty. all those memories were packed up. as i left, i felt "don't close the door". because to close it would feel too painful.
we walked across the street to see david. i'd written david a three page letter. yes, hand-written. i can't tell you the last time i wrote a three page, hand-written letter....high-school maybe? i'm serious. who hand-writes letters anymore? i had written all the things that i'd wanted to say to david but never took the time, had the guts or felt the need to say. i wrote it all out. honestly, it seemed almost like a love-letter. that sounds really silly. but it was more of a love-letter than anything else. how could it not be? i loved him.
when we saw david, the children rushed to him and began to tell him that we were leaving, today was our last day. he knew this day was coming and he asked them questions and smiled and acted excited for them. i handed him my note and a few quid and asked him to read it, please don't throw it away. please keep it and read it. we talked awhile longer, got a quick photo of him and the children, gave big hand squeezes and walked away. i turned around to see him opening the letter as soon as we walked away. he couldn't wait to read it.
the baristas at our local starbucks had asked us to come by on our last day. they presented us with a london mug that had been signed by each employee. the 6 of us sat by a window and had our last cup of coffee together....well, the kids had a hot chocolate and echo had a babyccino...
as we hailed our last taxi and were piling in, we saw david across the street and gave our final waves and shouts. the kids were yelling across the street to him like he was their uncle buck and we were only leaving for a holiday. we clambered in, "don't close the door" crept to my mind. as we pulled away, i continued to wave to david like i, myself, was 6 years old. and then the tears came, fast and furious. big, wet tears as we pulled out of church street and onto kensington high street. sweet maddox put his hand on my knee and asked, "are you crying because you'll miss david?"
i'm crying because i will miss everything. i'm crying because i hate goodbye. i'm crying because our journey is over. i'm crying because i'm sad. i'm crying because i'm happy. i'm crying because we are going home. home.
our flight home turned out to be one of the best trips. not only were the kids easy and fantastic, but it was the pilot's final flight. we were greeted in atlanta with two huge firetrucks hosing the plane down as a celebratory retirement tradition. the pilot's family were all on the aircraft and we signed his uniform for him before landing. we saw him later at baggage claim and he gave our children sweet treats and wings to wear on their shirts. he was having one of the best nights of his life. his smile said it all.
he was certainly closing a door.
and when we arrived home, we pulled into our driveway to see balloons, a welcome home banner, gifts for the kids, sweet tea and other surprises. our fridge had unknowingly been stocked and the house was cleaned. we have amazing friends indeed. indeed.
and to open the door to our home and take in the sights, the smells, the sounds....home. truly, there is no place like it. in that moment, as i closed the door, i felt the weight come off. the fear, the anxiety, the commotion, the confusion, the excitement, the anticipation. i felt it all come off. and i knew it was okay.
i closed the door.
i closed it gently, lightly, timidly.
i closed it quietly.
it's okay to close doors. we have to close a few to open others, right? it's what we do in life. we stop. so we can begin again. we close. so we can open.
the fast pace of life hasn't stopped for us since moving out of the city. it's only gotten more busy. we are back to reality. reality is good.
in the last two weeks we've had many doors open over here, car doors, house doors, bathroom doors, closet doors...oh, the closet doors as i clean, straighten and organize those closets! i don't like to have these doors closed. i like to have them open.
there is still so much in this life to do. our children are so young. we have many new beginnings coming our way. i have to keep an open mind and an open heart with everything that comes our way. "don't close the door", i tell myself.
keep it open.
be ready for anything.
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