We moved to the farm on the first day of Spring. We moved each and every lego. We moved each of a million pencils, screws, old lightbulbs, books, cups, hoses, plant pots, and pillow cases. We moved the freeweights, which, as far as I know, have only been "lifted" in an athletic sense in situations where they were moved to one closet or another, and then finally to the moving van to make their way to another closet in the new house. Continuity, anyway.
The kids wrote notes to the new family on our last mornings.
On the very last morning of ownership--the sale day, I went by myself to the old house, finally getting the last bits of our things out of the place. I baked up cherry and currant scones for the new owners, prayed for them and their new life in the cottage-- and the neighborhood and all our beloved neighbors--and walked out one last time, leaving my keys on the counter. And we were off--