One Week Ago Today
One week ago today, Joel and I put the finishing touches on our cram-it-all-in packing style in our U-Haul. We took one last trip around Vermillion, dropping off our high-speed internet and cable box, recycling our telephone books, shaking hands with our landlord, and lunching at our favorite downtown courtyard pub. One last time, we picked up Adelaide at daycare and said good-bye to all of her little friends and her loving daycare providers. We loaded Nine into the U-Haul’s cab, said a quick farewell to our neighbors, and pulled out of Vermillion just after four o’ clock.
The sun was warming the green lawns and new flowers as kids zoomed by on bicycles and swung high at the Austin School playground a block from our (old) house. In the rearview mirror, I watched as Joel carefully maneuvered the U-Haul onto the street and, from the corner of my eye, I saw our dear neighbor mowing his lawn in the perfect straight lines he always mows while his daughter ran around the yard, playing.
And then, it hit me.
We’re never coming back. Never coming back to live in Vermillion.
After this realization, I felt a deep loss. After all, in four short years, we’d come to love the little town on the prairie for revitalizing our love of theatre, encouraging our professional aspirations, for giving us a community to belong to, and for endowing us with wonderful friends.
But perhaps, the one thing that made me the most sad was thinking of Adelaide. Vermillion is the town of her birth. When Adelaide was born, this little community gave her such a welcome and nurtured Joel and I in our parental infancy. Vermillion is the place where Adelaide first went down a slide, where Adelaide made her first friends, and where Adelaide turned one month, six months, one year, and two. My memories of our time in Vermillion are almost entirely wrapped up in memories of Adelaide’s milestones, challenges, and stories.
It’s difficult to leave all of that behind. Yes, we take the memories with us to our new home, but we leave behind all of the tangible reminders.
The Austin School Tunnel of Mystery.
The Vermillion High School Stage.
The Backyard Clothesline.
The Hill.
The Hospital.
Highway 50 between Vermillion and Yankton.
How do you say good-bye?
Comments
I am certain that Vermillion will have the same difficulty saying goodbye to your lovely family. I remember well that feeling - of driving the u-haul down Highway 50 with a sense of finality after seven years of calling that corner of SoDak home.
I'm glad that our paths crossed there those few years ago, and that you both grew to love the place as I did. My best to you as you start this new and exciting phase of your lives!
Posted by: Kari | May 24, 2008 12:02 PM