Fractured. On a Friday.

What would you think of me now?
So lucky, so strong, so proud
I never said thank you for that
Now I'll never have a chance
- Jimmy Eat World

Today is a fractured kind of day. All over the place, and I'm having a hard time deciding what to do first. We sold. our. house. I can hardly believe it. All I heard was how terrible the market was...yadda yadda yadda. It sold in THREE DAYS. Un. Freakin'. Believable.

So, here's the catch. We have to pack. Fast. And get the heck out. I got up this morning to an empty house and stared down the greatest obstacle to a fast packing day: Grandma's box. The small box holding everything I have left. The letters. The trinkets. All of it.

Now, I could have just thrown the box in a packing bin and forgotten about it, except it was so stuffed that it needed to be resorted. So, I put on some ITunes, got my camera out, and decided if I was going to have to go through the box, I might as well go through it right...have a good cry...and make it a blog post.
Yesterday, on my way to Madison, I stopped by to see Grams.



Grams still had an old school library card from the BPL.

The last pajamas.

The Nerd Hat. Grams wore these to keep the "do" fresh and poofy.

Nerd Hat #2




Grandma is the one who taught me the wonder of the eyebrow pencil. Seems an odd thing to keep, but it was a part of who she was. She never went out without her eyebrows.

Years of letters.



She was nothing if not persistent.


This breaks my heart. If we only knew.

The letter she wrote me when I was confirmed. She was my sponsor.

I got everything put away. The pajamas still smelled like her. I could still hear her voice in the letters....but with each passing month since her death its harder and harder to remember what she sounded like when she said my name...or her laugh. I wish I was able to bottle that and put it in the box as well. I miss her voice. I miss everything about her. I sat in my office and read every.single.letter in the pile. Years of letters. I normally got one every week...in a card...chock full of coupons for diapers and dish soap.

She said a lot that she missed me and wished I stopped by more often. It makes my heart ache. What was I so busy doing?
Why didn't I call her every time a letter came?
The regrets cropped up with each word.

It's amazing how quickly your whole life changes. Last week we were talking about moving...this week our home is sold and my office is empty.
Two years ago I was getting a letter a week from my favorite person.
Now I'm having a hard time remembering what she sounded like.
I want to roll with the changes. I want to be excited about whats in store for the future.

I just wish I could pick up the phone and tell her all about it first.