After so many relocations, packing is an old trick. I can out pack anyone and I clean house in a way that would make Marie Kondo fall into an ashen faced surprise, maybe even a bow. For me, it’s party conversation—a move is lighthearted and casual, worth joking about.

Of this move, however, I remember three things:

(1) Avery was everywhere

(2) Avery was taking everything out of boxes and putting every other thing into boxes (or sometimes into our shoes)

(3) Moving without a job feels like getting stung by all the bees

The last isn’t really a memory so much as a sense, but sometimes memory is not exact. In the homecoming, which is a flurry of worry and doubt, I am so thankful for happy mail, all the good wishes from friends, and Avery’s new habit to say “how’s it going mama?”

Tomorrow, I’ll face a huge fear: a job fair. And I will be chanting Nicole’s can-can note the whole time. Thanks girlfriend; your support for this whirlwind change is what’s making me get through the day.