So today is the last day.
I hope I am wrong. I know I am - but still, something about it feels final, and strange.
My little brother and his family are moving away - far away. Like so far that the light from where we were born takes two hours to reach me, and will now take another hour to reach him.
It's not me moving. So I'm not sure why it's so shocking - but it is.
His oldest daughter and mine are giving makeovers in my basement. I can hear them laughing from an entire floor away. I hate myself for thinking it but I wonder if I will ever hear it again. I wonder if maybe - just when they were starting to become close that maybe it will all be over. Tomorrow I will take her back to her own house, and wave goodbye to all of them.
This is the third move we've dealt with in as many months. First my dad's move - which, well - seeing as he's still hanging out in my living room, wasn't a HUGE move - but still, there was a lot to deal with. Then Grandma moving into a Care Center, which, lets face it - is about as depressing as it gets, and now this.
It's no wonder I want to live in an RV. That way nobody can really ever escape from me - I can just follow them around forever.