Bawl Baby

When I was in elementary school one of my teachers, I don't remember which one, had a big ball box to hold all our playground equipment.  The front was a huge face with holes for the eyes and mouth where we threw the balls in, the kind you see on carnival games. Except this face had a great big frown and droopy eyes with tears dripping down.  It was our "bawl baby". This week that has been me, just a great big bawl baby.   Our friends, who also until yesterday happened to be our neighbors, moved.  Moved far, far away.  Half way across the country, all the way to Tennessee.  Their oldest is Zachary's age, their youngest Caleb's.  I cry every time we move, or we have friends move, but this feels different.  I cried lots when my sisters left California,  this is kind of like that.  Maybe it's the whole I can't drive a couple of hours and see you, kind of thing, whatever it is I am sad.  I will miss their kids wandering into my house, and my kids heading over to theirs.  I will miss the security I've always felt, knowing my kids are just as safe there as they are at home (okay fine I will be honest, they were probably safer there).  So, while I know the move was good for them, I am going to go ahead and be a bawl baby for awhile.  Like every time I drive by their house, or look at the tortoise 'Sheldon', they left with us, or when I pull into the school parking lot to pick up Caleb and Jenna isn't there.  And that's okay, I'm sure we will all adjust.