I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet

In 2021, our younger son, let’s call him Bob, was living with us while he went to school and worked. Late in the year, I’m not sure which came first, the older son, let’s call him Joe, asking to move back in after a couple years piy on his own or Bob announcing he was moving into an apartment with two friends.

And so it came to be that the 23rd and 24th of December of 2021 involved Bob boxing up his belongings and some furniture into my husband’s truck, making a couple trips the 10 miles to his new digs. We had a casual brunch on Christmas Day and dinner. With just the four of us, we can go with the flow. On the 26th, Joe began moving his stuff into the basement. He had a lot of furnishings, including our old over-sized living room furniture and a desk set-up for his work as a computer programmer. This required moving his things into the family room, which was already filled with a two-piece couch set, entertainment center, and desk with computer. Everything fit in like playing Tetris. (Does anybody still play that?)

A couple of weeks after our sons switched occupation of the basement, my mother-in-law lost her husband. My husband and I immediately recognized she would need support getting through all the hoops required when one’s spouse passes. As soon as my husband made reservations for travel to be with her, I broke my ankle. Over the next few months, I focused on my post-surgical rehab and he focused on a plan for his mom not to be alone in the middle-of-nowhere desert in central California. Given my husband is my MIL’s only relative in US, besides grandkids, the decision was made that she should move up to be near us. She’s moving in with us.

Seven months after his relocation, Bob is doing great in his new place and new job. Joe just got a new job, too, using his B.S. in Computer Science; it’s a well-paying job. Escrow will close on mother-in-law’s property the first week of September.

She’s bringing her living room chairs, tv, and other things, I’m sure, of which I am unaware. She did make it very clear she’s bringing her old, dried-out, plastic seven dwarves gnomes to put in the yard, make that six. My husband broke one while moving her things around for garage sales, donations, or discarding. She was sooo mad.

I heard Joe talking to his boss yesterday. I was at the kitchen sink, rinsing dishes. Due to headphones, I only caught one side of the conversation. Joe said, “Yeah, with my parents. I’ll be moving into my own place in a month, after I get paid.” I wondered what he was thinking about as far as timing, so there it is.

The last week of August, Joe will be moving into a place of his own. I’m sure he’ll use our truck and he’s got friends who will help transport the big furniture. I have no idea what my husband plans to do with the two piece couch set in the family room if his mom is bringing two recliners. I’m thrilled to get rid of our old entertainment center so she can have hers downstairs. Perhaps all of these items of ours will be donated. I keep reminding myself I’m staying out of this entirely. My husband will travel to California, probably the last time for a long time, to drive the rented moving truck as my mother-in-law follows in her vehicle, accompanied by her dog and cat. The first week of September, she will be moving her belongings into our home. Lots of changes goin’ on.

I feel the sky come tumblin’ down, a tumblin’ down.