Moving Day

For two months, I've known you, my friend, were moving. Moving not by your choice but by the choice of others. Somehow, I managed to put thoughts of this dreaded day in the back of my mind. Maybe if I didn't think about it, this day would never come.

On my way home the other day, I glanced your way and there it was, the moving van. Moving Day. For a moment, I thought I might pull in the drive and tell the movers to leave. Tell them there had been a mistake and you, my dear friend, would not be moving after all. I wanted to pretend I didn't see it. I wanted to cry. I knew there was nothing I could do to change Moving Day so I drove home.

When the I saw the moving van, I saw in the heart of my mind, your legacy to me. Your counsel. Your caring. Your gift of saying what the heart needs to hear.

You were my neighbor. My friend.

Someone else lives in your house now. Moving Day. Another van backed in the driveway. It's not the same. It's not right. I wasn't ready for you to move away.

Moving Day. The people who watched you move to your new home could not have known the blessing that moving van brought them. They will love you. They will be helpless to do otherwise. They will be forever touched by your counsel and caring. They will be mesmerized and awed by the message you bring. They will love you as I and so many others have loved you.

Moving Day.