The Good Life – November-December 2019

when he grew big enough to transform it into a toddler bed.
We'll never walk the same loop around the neighborhood
like we did every day, rain or shine, warm or cold just to get
out of the house for a while. I could go on, obviously.
In the days after the move, I fought hard against the instinct
to drive past the old house, because I knew I would never
make it without crying. Even now, months later, the only
way I will drive through the old neighborhood is if Macklin
is with me and he asks to see the house. (OK, I always bring
it up, but I let him make the final call.)
Last week he accepted my offer, and as we slowly crept by
the old house, Mack said something with a profound deeper
meaning: "I liked that house, Daddy. Yeah, it's a good house.
I like our new house, too."
A weight lifted off my shoulders … promptly falling directly
into my tear ducts. My 4-year-old simplified my feelings for
me, taking the edge off and giving me permission to keep
loving our old home, while still celebrating the beginning of
many new adventures in our new home.
In the weeks leading up to the move, Emily and I wondered
how Macklin would transition to the new house. Not
surprisingly, he handled it the best out of all of us … after
all, he's got the memory and attention span of a 4-yearold.
Emily compulsively painted our bedrooms. Lucy had
an accident the first time she smelled a trace of the prior
owner's dog, something she hadn't done in years. My
transition object was the lawnmower — I took extra care
getting to know the new yard, taking twice as long to mow it
as I otherwise would.
Macklin, however, settled
right in. We knew he was
over the whole move on
day two when he refused
to get dressed for the day.
"It's mine own home
to be naked in," he
declared. He was right.
We were home. •
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