I really don't like packing. It reminds me of how much crap we have acquired, and makes me want to throw it all. But, I refain, and just keep packing. I am at that point where I find myself walking around in circles. We still need stuff to live on/with for 4 days, and so I am mentally separting all the junk into piles. That was gettting boring, so I thought I would blog. The Babe is with Grandma and Grandpa, so we could actually accomplish the packing. He was just way too much "help" for his own good. So he is having a good time hanging with them. While going through stuff, a somewhat morbid thought has occurred to me. I don't know how people, who have lost a child ever go on with life. With the Babe gone, everytime I open a drawer, or move something, I am reminded by his presence. I know he is just at his Grandparents, but see, we took all his toys and clothes and everything with him. So on the surface, there are not many obvious signs of his existence. But for example, I open my drawer in my kitchen, where my measuring cups are to be, and I find colored pencils! Why? Because that drawer is in his reach and he just thought that was a good place for them. We think the stereo sounds funny... why? Because the balance has been "fixed" for us before he left. These are the little things we find, and laugh about, and it makes us miss him and all his funny things. And I know I will see him in 5 days. I could not fathom if it were a different way.... Ok, enough morbid thoughts.. but lets call them "reflections" instead... oh well, I hear kitchen utensils calling my name, asking to be packed.
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