I live roughly 45 miles from Maddie. While it's a heckuva lot better than the 1,100 miles when I lived in Denver, it still isn't close enough — especially for her.
About two years ago, Maddie often talked about me moving in with her. While it was incredibly sweet to hear her talk about us as one big, happy family — the way, I suppose, she sees it and wants it to be — it was also quite funny, and I would share the stories of the different scenarios with her Mom whenever she'd bring it up.
On the drive from picking Maddie up for Thanksgiving last Wednesday night, we passed a string of semis and she asked what was inside. I explained there could be any number of things, from clothes to school supplies to food, that the trucks were moving things from one place to another. I even mentioned they can move people — well, their belongings, anyway.
This seemed to pique her interest and she took the line of questioning further. "Do people ride in the truck?," she asked. I told her no, a moving truck or van would generally meet the homeowners at their destination. And then I made my mistake.
I had noticed, when pulling up to her house earlier in the evening, the neighbors next door had their house up for sale.
As an example, I told Maddie if I were moving into the house next door, the movers would load up my furniture, etc., I would tell them where my new home was, and then I would drive the Jeep and meet them there.
The subject changed entirely.
Maddie told me that, in fact, the next door neighbor was moving and that I could move in if I wanted to. "You'll have to wait until they move out," she explained, "but then you can feel free to move there!"
I chuckled to myself. "Feel free." How do 7-year-olds learn to talk like that?
She went on about how great it would be for me to live next door, that we could see each other every day. Anytime I wanted to see her, I could just walk over. It wouldn't take very long.
"There's just one thing," she added.
"What's that?"
"I'll have to tell my Mom."
Indeed.