Cry Kookaburra Cry

Like so may other Los Angelinos .... Californians ..... and Americans, 2011 has been a tough year for us. We've had less income, more bills, and have been fighting to save our home. We found out last year that the financial institution that we paid our mortgage to was one of the banks that paid the billion dollar (?!) penalty to the government in order to not have to participate in the "making homes affordable" program. Re modifying our loan was never an option for us. After so many months of fighting for something that has depreciated in value so much that it's not worth the energy (more than half!), we finally decided that the smartest thing to do was to give up, and to start over. I think it was the toughest decision my husband and I have ever had to make.

I debated long and hard as to whether or not I would even write this blog as it is so personal and fragile an issue, but then I thought: This is life. This is the real deal. This is the thing one SHOULD write about. 

So .... we are moving to Texas... in less than a month.

Since Quilla was born, I have never felt the need to be near family as greatly as I have in the last year on a daily basis. My husband's family is in Texas. It will be good for Quilla to be surrounded by so many loving relatives, and I am looking forward to getting to know them better.
In my life I have lived in so many places in the world without knowing much about it, a single soul, or sometimes even the language when I arrived there, and always found my way .... I hope that skill resurfaces! I am sure Texas will be wonderful, but a bit of an adjustment for this New York City girl who still considers Los Angeles to be an over-grown suburb ...  Ha!
But I can't think about that now. I must pack.

I must pack away our home of the last 5 years ... the first home we bought just before we got married, the house where Raven carried me over the threshold, the home where we buried my first dog, the home where Quilla was conceived, the home I brought her home to just after her birth, the home where she took her first steps, the home where we just hosted her first birthday party surrounded by all the wonderful friends we've made over the years since we moved to Los Angeles from NYC...

32 boxes later, I have now finally finished packing up the kitchen. As I wiped down the counter tops,  shelves and stove,  The Australian Lullaby: "Kookaburra" gently drifted from Quilla's iPod in the living room where she was playing.

"Kookaburra sits on a rusty nail 

Gets a boo-boo in his tail 

Cry, Kookaburra! Cry, kookaburra! 

Oh how life can be" 

With great nostalgia, I realized that Quilla's birthday cake was the last thing I will/would have ever baked in this kitchen.

I sat down in a pile of bubble wrap .... and cried.