My son and new daughter-in-law have SO MUCH in common. That can be really good in a marriage. However, procrastination is not necessarily a good trait to share. They had a month--A MONTH, I TELL YOU--to pack up their belongings.
After renting the moving truck Thursday afternoon, the packing began. I will concede that they apparently had done a little sorting and organizing previous to this big day. And I stress the word "little."
With the help of big brother and two friends, they managed to get everything loaded before midnight. (I only assume this, since I had retired long before then.)
After a couple of hours trying to help gather up belongings and pack boxes, I came to the conclusion that it was not my fault they had waited until the 11th hour to get ready for their move. Lauren had been patiently, and sometimes not so patiently, waiting to swim. She was hot and sweaty and red faced when I finally said, "okay, let's get in the pool." To which she replied in dramatic fashion, "THANK. YOU. LORD. JESUS!"
By 10:30 (an hour past my bedtime) I squeezed my tired, achy body between my two grandchildren to get whatever precious little sleep I could before my alarm sounded at 5:15. Jacob was nestled up to my left shoulder, Lauren's head laying on my right shoulder. Dark and quiet. Sounds of breathing slowing to a gentle rhythm. Jacob: "I love you, Nana." Lauren: "I love you, Nana." Oh. My. Goodness. I can sleep when I'm dead.
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