10 nights, 11 days,12 States, 13,000 dollars (paid by Ford), 14 years till we would ever think of doing it again.
At 7pm, we took a left turn onto our street for the very first time. We followed the GPS as it led the way to our new home and turned up the driveway, completing our journey.
We found our way through the back door, preparing to wade through a maze of boxes and disarray. “Thank God my family was kind enough to set up our beds,” we thought, as we turned the key in the lock. “At least we would have a place to put the kids down.”.
What we came home to was far from what we expected. The door opened to a pristine kitchen with monogrammed place mats laid neatly at the table, a homemade chicken parmesan meal was placed inside the fridge along with milk and other staples. The archway off the kitchen framed a cherry wood dining room table (not previously owned by us), with our china laying atop a red and white tablecloth, accompanied by a bottle of Cabernet and wine key.
I tried to video this discovery, as I wanted to capture Zachary’s first impression of this much-anticipated arrival into his new home, but I could barely keep my own composure. I felt like the recipient of Extreme Makeover Home Edition as we wandered through the house.
We walked further, following the warm glow reflecting on the wall in the living room. It seems that our angels had not only unpacked our kitchen, made us dinner, arranged furniture and made our beds, but they invited Santa himself, to come adorn our hearth and rooms. We rounded the bend into the sun room and found a tree sparkling among a sea of presents, and a digital picture frame scrolling through all of my late Father’s artwork. I aimed the camera at Zachary and asked him, “Who lives here? Who’s house is this?”. “Santa’s”, he answered with wide eyes.
He and Isabelle forgot about their over tired and hungry states, and tore into packages. I turned and noticed a double frame to my left and had to turn off the camera at this point. My sister had copied the pictures I had posted last week, of us at our special place at the beach, and they sat in frames on the desk.
It didn’t stop there. An hour after our arrival, our children were put to bed in their own rooms, perfectly placed and arranged, wrapped gifts on the shelves. Steve and I sat on the couch, in front of a fireplace of dancing candles, another finishing touch. We silently looked around in disbelief. We felt as though we had climbed Mount Everest to get here, and yet somehow all of our belongings beamed themselves across the country and quietly awaited us.
How do you adequately show gratitude for such an enormous act of kindness? I called my sister and Mom, and in the confusion of getting the kids fed and to bed, I am certain I wasn’t able to convey all we felt for what they left for us.
I posted a bit ago, (Magic Anyone) begging for a fairy godmother to wave her magic wand and transport all we own to the East Coast, and it seems that that fairy godmother appeared, dressed as the Rozek Family – anonymity out the window. Credit must be given where credit is due. It’s good to be home, close to the magic.