So. This is it. The movers are coming tomorrow, just in time for some snow flurries. Goodbye Mulletville.
As I was cleaning out closets in the house we're moving into—my childhood home—I found this basket of shells. They'd been sitting there since 1982.
My mother left the basket behind after my parents divorced and she moved out, and I hung on to it, like I did a lot of things (come swim in my pool!). My mother always wanted to live by the beach, but my father thought that was impractical.
This summer, she and my step-father moved to a house by the ocean, and yesterday I gave her back the shells.
I'm taking this as a sign that everyone is where they are supposed to be.