Little house in the south


We moved out of our little flat last week and are currently living out of bags and boxes and trying to find our next little home. I cried. I have moved more than 20 times in 27 years but this was the first time I was genuinely sad to leave. Sadder than when we left Toronto and that says a lot. It wasn’t like it was an amazing apartment. I mean it was up two flights of stairs and didn’t have a shower (I know, I know). But it was where we picked up pieces and started again. It is where we spent our last Christmas with just the two of us. It was where I went into labour and before that, where I spent four months staring at a wall unable to walk. It was our baby’s first home. It deserved some tears on leaving. And now we head from the south to the east. London, you have won us for another year so please please be kind.

Forgive the instasnaps. I packed the camera. 


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