Last night, clients-turned-friends of ours came to take what was left of our furniture (the stuff we can't fit into the cabin, that is) and took it home with them to use and store until we move back. Hannah was quite the trooper, but was we watched them take the final straps to tie everything down in the trailer I noticed her walking slowly down the length of it, stroking and patting the sofa and a chair back.
I asked her if she was okay, and she replied yes, but wanted to be picked up. I obliged and she tucked her head into my neck and whispered, "But mama, our furniture is in my heart."
Instead of crying myself and urging our friends to kindly return the heavy, unnecessary furniture to its proper location, I reassured her that we would get to see this stuff again when we moved back and that we would have more than enough to fill up our home when we move in a few weeks. But man. On the inside? Not so much with the strength.
