The night before school starts

We enforce curfew for the first time all summer,

say no to kick-the-can, and drag the children

inside for baths at 8:30. They don't want to

say goodbye.

It's the night 

before the night

before we move halfway 

around the world. The children organize

a hugging ceremony. They huddle up, 

strategize ways not to

say goodbye. 

Five more minutes, we say—

then proceed to talk for ten

while mosquitos feast and the 

children's feet collect more magic 

cul-de-sac dust. 

Even I don't know how to

say goodbye

so I end up ugly crying with my mom

friends under the streetlight

while we imagine how to raise our children

without each other.

*****

Anyway, here's a picture of the hugging ceremony huddle:

The kids requested that 'Nobody Knows' be played while they went through their ceremony (in about the same place they held their make-believe wedding ceremony a few years earlier (there are pictures of this somewhere!). They recently watched Pete's Dragon at a sleepover together (that song is in the movie). Somehow the kids didn't cry during their hugging ceremony. 

But I sure did! 

(And Shell did, too). 

We took a lot of pictures of the kids (but now I regret not getting a picture of me with my mom friends—maybe there's still time for that). 

Shell put up her hammock to recreate this picture from years ago. She said six years ago, but I think it was probably only four or five years ago (because I see our retaining wall, which was built when Phoebe was a newborn). Look how little those kids are!

And look at them now!

And here they are with the two little sisters who weren't quite around when the first picture was taken, but who are five and four now:

Later Lynne came out with Luna. We tried to get a few better pictures of Benjamin with Luna, which was a bit easier since it was a little lighter outside than when we saw her yesterday. But still she couldn't contain herself and just wanted to lick his face:

Phoebe had a hard time saying goodbye to Luna as well:

41 hours until we peel out of this cul-de-sac for good. 

I know we'll keep in touch with our wonderful neighbours. 

And I hope/know I'll make new mom friends and build a new little safety net for my kids, where the kids all stream from house to house seemingly unaware of borders because they know they all belong in every house, that every yard is their yard, every pet is their pet, every celebration is their celebration. 

Saying goodbye to this little cul-de-sac is perhaps the hardest thing of this whole process. 

(I have cried fifty times while writing this post.)