The house is empty. Everything we own is packed away in a storage locker across town, except for our backpacking gear and assorted cloths and other travel related items. We stood in the back bedroom singing bad harmonies to the echoing hallway. Tam broke down and cried again when I told her about the note the new owners left on the white board in our basement today when they did the walk through before closing. It simply said, "Have fun in New Zealand." Strange how the weirdest things can set you off. Uther, our dog, is in a constant state of panic. He hates it when we pack. It must be because he knows we are leaving him behind. Every time we open the front door he darts for the car.

It's odd how an inanimate object like a house can take on a personality. It becomes more to you then just a roof and a shower. Over time it becomes your home.