So, moving day has finally arrived: 75 boxes, 2 miles of packing tape, several hundred yards of bubble wrap, reams of newspaper and countless contractor bags; we are sealed up, stacked up and waiting for the movers to arrive.

Staring at all of these boxes in an otherwise empty room, did I just hear our collective sigh of relief that we actually pulled this all together or our gasp of abject terror that we are about to vacate our home of nearly two decades?

I have often told my children that in order to expand one’s comfort zone, one must step out  of it and thus by definition, be uncomfortable. Well, the movers are late, we met with the co-  op board last night and as yet don’t know their decision on our “desirability” and I haven’t  had a cup of coffee this morning because the coffee maker is in one of the boxes that we’ve  been staring at for the last five minutes. So no doubt about it, I’m pretty damn uncomfortable.

“Why did we decide to leave home sweet home?” I think this, but I dare not say it (not with Ann standing right next to me.) My mind is in overdrive filled with conflicting thoughts: New adventures await us?  (I’m going to miss my friend Richie.) The vibrancy of the city will awaken our intellectual and cultural curiosity? (This is such a nice neighborhood.) Leave the familiar for the yet to be discovered? Broaden our horizon-expand our comfort zone? (The backyard sure looks beautiful.)

Ah! The movers have arrived and Ann and I get caught up in a whirlwind of activity. “These boxes go into long-term storage; that carton is for temporary storage; I’ll put that one in my car and bring it down to Yonkers.”  We are in full swing now. A cadre of muscular men marches up and down the stairs moving all that was in…out. I’m now getting excited from all of the activity.

As the house empties, my sentimental attachment loosens its bonds. This was lovely house made beautiful by my wife’s creativity, enlivened by my children’s activities, and enriched by precious moments with friends and family. It is filled with many wonderful memories; but now it is nearly void of all that was ours. It is indeed a lovely house, but is no longer our home.

The moving truck is nearly full. The phone rings! It’s our wonderful realtor, Valerie Sherman, with timely news: the co-op board has approved our application and extends their welcome. West End Avenue, here we come! (with a short layover in Yonkers, N.Y.)

The truck pulls out of the driveway with Ann and I in tow. One door closed, another has opened.  This feels right. I am indeed excited.

I am comfortable.