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My house is filled with half-packed cardboard boxes. Piles of things waiting to go to Goodwill.

On Tuesday the kids and I, with the help of the Grandparents, haul ass back to Wisconsin in a U-Haul and a minivan. On Tuesday Husband has his dissertation defense. He’ll join us the next day.

On Tuesday, everything changes.

We’re moving back to a town we know and love. But we are not the same.

Everyone asks where we’re going to go first. What restaurants do we want to visit? What sites do we want to see? We don’t know. After 6 years, we don’t remember where anything is, much less what’s still there. The place has changed.

The kids are acting up. They know something is changing. Toddler understands we are moving to a new house and she is excited, but it worries her when we pack her things away in boxes, even if she helps. Baby likes the fact that there are packing peanuts for her to eat and exposed outlets for her to stick fingers into.

When we move back to Wisconsin, Husband and I will be back at our college stomping grounds. The place we met. The place we fell in love. The place I said, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

But it is new.

We are new.

Oh, and also, NO MORE CARDBOARD BOXES (and no more wire hangers, either).