I drove my nephew to the airport in Charlotte this morning–we left the house around 7:30am. After a quick, curbside rendezvous with my sister, who had flown down to pick up her son, we were off to spend several hours at what is now our closest, large climbing gym. On the drive back home, we stopped for lunch at a sandwich shop that claimed to offer banh mi sandwiches. Not quite–it was actually a pulled pork sandwich with pickled vegetables on French bread. I went with the roast beef instead. One final pit stop to pick up a couple of pairs of pants for school for our oldest (who apparently shot up quite a bit over the past few months), and then it was back up the foggy mountain road to our home up on the ridge.
Meanwhile, my wife had stayed behind, attempting to tackle the bags and boxes of clothes–mostly hers at this point–that still littered the bedroom. She had made a dent, but she was looking pretty overwhelmed.
As I’ve said before, I tend to lead rather than follow. That means when I see something that needs doing, my first instinct is to tackle it myself. It’s a much harder task for me to support a process, rather than trying to run the whole darn thing.
But this was my wife’s stuff to organize. Some of it was sort-through material that she never quite got to with her father passing just as we were moving. Some of it needed hanging, and some of it needed to be stored away until winter.
So I made myself available. Whatever little task she asked me to do, I made that my next goal. I broke down boxes as they emptied out. I hauled bags into the attic. I folded clothes and left them in stacks to be arranged as need be.
The bedroom isn’t quite finished yet, but it’s much, much better. More importantly, though–we are ending a long and busy day without anyone looking or feeling too overwhelmed.