The exercise:
Write about: moving on up.
... the valley, in our case. As of January 1st (or December 31st, or January 2nd or 3rd... depending when we can get movers) we shall be residents of Oliver.
After looking for over a year, we've finally found a bigger space to rent in a better location for all that we do and all that we are. My commute will go up a bit, but Max will be closer to Learning Centre and his friends, Kat will be closer to Penticton and her friends, and we'll have plenty of room for everybody.
We're going from two bedrooms and one bathroom in a space we outgrew the second Miles was born, to three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Plus a playroom, a bigger kitchen with plenty of counter space and cupboards, and a big backyard. Not as big as a farm, obviously, but it'll get the job done. The boys will share one of the bedrooms, which means we'll actually have a guestroom for the first time since Max was born.
Very exciting.
Now all we have to do is get us and our stuff there.
2 comments:
Oh wow, you're moving yourself this time, instead of helping other people move! Well, I guess you're practically an expert at it by now, though, right? Just remember to pack the boys in the boxes with airholes and everything will be fine :)
The new house sounds exciting, especially since it's bigger -- I'm sure you're looking forward to the extra cleaning already. Although this puts you closer to friends, does it move you further away from grandparently babysitting?
But still, well done :) I hope you're really happy in the new place!
Moving on up
As they left the house Tristram said something to the Ghost that David couldn't hear, but the laughter in his head made his spine tingle like someone was walking over his grave.
"Moving up to higher ground is not where we'll find a boat," said the Ghost. "We go down to the water's edge, and if there are really wights on this isle, then I hope for your sake that there's a boat nearby."
What followed was fifteen minutes of breath-stilling terror over invisible terrain in the night. The moon was a bare sliver above and the stars twinkled brightly but cast little light. The snow on the ground was mostly light, though there were deep drifts here and there, and every footstep filled David with dread that he'd sink into the snow up to his knee, or worse his waist, and be stranded there, easy prey for the wights. Despite his coat and gloves he shivered, not from the cold but from the knowledge of what the wights would do if they caught them.
As the neared the edge of the isle the snow became a dusting and was completely absent in places. David started to relax, and then a small voice in the back of his head murmured that now he couldn't see the footprints of any wights nearby, and he tensed up again.
"There's a natural harbour over this way," said Tristram. He sounded sulky, and David wondered when his hearing had come back as he hadn't even realised he'd started hearing things again until now. "Most likely place for a boat is here."
"Resourceful of you," said the Ghost. "I'm so pleased that you remembered this and we haven't had to traipse across the whole place looking for it."
"The other harbour," said Tristram, "is on the other side of the isle though, so if we'd gone up to higher ground we could have looked out over both sides and picked one that definitely had boats."
"But the wights might think of that too," said the Ghost. "And be waiting for you up there."
"You've got an answer for everything," said Tristram. "How come you haven't got your own boat?"
"They're expensive," said the Ghost. "Neither of you could afford to give such a gift, or receive such a gift, so it's out of my range to produce one. I could probably give you the gift of a large dog, or perhaps a pair of ferrets. A mink, maybe."
"There's a limit to what you can do?" David was curious despite his terror.
"Not exactly," said the Ghost. "The limits come from whoever invoked me. I am the Ghost of Christmas Presents, and I must be appropriate to the environment. If someone invoked me, as has happened, in a warzone, then I could give the gift of Peace, or perhaps the gift of ammunition. But I would not be giving the gift of a spa-day in a local hotel."
"Gift of Peace?" Tristram's voice was rich with sarcasm. "You mean kill them?"
"With my bare hands," said the Ghost. "Is that a boat?"
Greg - heh. Well, we're hiring movers, so I'll be less responsible than I might otherwise be. And yes, further away from family babysitters, but I'll be coming this way for work five days a week, so I'm sure I'll either be bringing them with me in the morning or picking them up on the way home after work plenty of times.
Plus they can come visit and do the babysitting at our house now.
Continuing to enjoy this tale. Still pretty sure the ghost is my favorite character. That last bit about the appropriate gifts was particularly enjoyable.
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