I love, love, LOVE our new house.

Thursday night, Hannah and Ian and I were at home, trying to settle a car crisis so we could get out and do some more moving. While Ian was digging out tools and removing the battery from his truck, Hannah and I got a big bowl of grapes from our fridge and sat on the steps up to our front yard. Hannah snuggled into the crook of my arm and demanded that I pluck the grapes and hand them to her, and we smiled and said hello to everyone who passed us on the sidewalk.

It was just so nice. Having two steps from the sidewalk up to our yard is nice – you only see that in the older neighbourhoods here, but it gives you somewhere to sit that is further out than your front door. Sitting under the trees on a hot day was nice. In our old neighbourhood, where there are no trees, if it’s warm, you bake in the sun. And if it’s less than baking weather, it’s grey and chilly. Trees make everything wonderful. Here, the back yard feels like a place worth going into just to sit. It is full of dappled light and rustling leaves. At the old house, I only went out to the yard to work and when I did, I baked in the sun and was relieved to come back inside.

We left the back door open to let the cat out last night. When it was time to come in, we couldn’t find her. Ian finally located her, hiding around the side of the house, and on her face was an expression that plainly said, “NOOO!!! I are wild kitteh now!” This morning, we left the back door open while moving stuff in from the truck, and a neighbourhood cat sauntered in to make our acquaintance. Things you don’t realize until you move away: nobody lets their cats out in our old neighbourhood. You simply do not meet neighbourhood cats on those streets.

This morning, once we’d had a morning cup of coffee, we took the kids out for a walk to the river. The older two brought their bikes and we put Hannah in the stroller.

On our way out, we stopped at our neighbour’s garage sale. Bought an old linen cabinet from her and pawed through her old fabric scraps. I like her quite a lot, she’s easy to make cross-fence conversation with – something I have always been stilted at. But she’s moving next month, into an assisted living condo. She seems hardly old enough, can’t be out of her sixties yet. But, it’s a personal decision, and one I shouldn’t put myself in the position of making for her.

We went down the hill to the park by the river, cruised along the river to cross the traffic bridge. Then strolled down the River Landing area for some puffed wheat cake. Then crossed back on the Broadway bridge and came home. I was so happy I practically skipped the whole way. Tugging at Ian’s sleeve and saying, “isn’t this great? This is so great!” And “Yes! This is the childhood I want my children to have.” Yes! I had forgotten how important this river is to me, how wonderful it is to have easy access to it and its paths, its bridges, its people. And I’m excited for the children to learn the skills in navigation, safety and stranger-smarts that come from frequenting the busy, twisting bike-paths, biking ahead out of sight of their parents, and visiting with strange dogs, making way for joggers, talking to other children.

We are almost finally moved out of the old house. Tomorrow night is the final cleaning, and the new owners take possession on Tuesday. Driving out of that neighbourhood, I don’t feel the slightest loss.

I am totally grateful; that house was good to us. It was a good place for us to land when we bought, the market being what it was. And it was a good place to get through Hannah’s babyhood. It was a solid house with everything we needed and very little to worry about. But I am ready to move on and prepared now to do a little work for a house that will actually be home.