I knew this day was coming – in fact, I planned it out and set it up to happen this way.  As I cleaned out the brushes for one last time and scrubbed paint off the sink (not my sink, thank you fellow homeschooler for loaning your house!) I felt sad.  I still feel sad.  The absolute worst thing about moving is pulling up the roots you’ve put down.

For your average family, the roots may look slightly different.  Homeschoolers have the same relationships too, but homeschool roots are special.  Those homeschool roots grow deep, and it really hurts to pull them out of the tight-knight community.

 

Community

Homeschoolers build a network of support and community in a way that public school families don’t need to.  That support is already there – the PTA, the car pool, or the team sports.  Homeschoolers rely on each other for support and guidance.  We make connections and form bonds that last a long time.  Until one of us moves, that is.

We’ll keep in contact, for sure! But for kids – and adults even – a long distance communication is hard to keep up.  Kids grow so fast and they have local friends to hang out with that it takes some serious effort to keep a friendship going.

 

They’re all my kids

As a homeschool teacher, I’m doubly sad.  These kids are my kids’ friends.  These parents are my friends.  And their kids – well, their kids are mine now.  They’re not just my students, they’re my kids.  I cheer on their accomplishments and support them when they’re struggling, just like I do with my own kids.  Seeing them every week for the entire year makes them family, not just students.

 

Leaving

I hate being the one leaving.  Usually we’re the ones saying goodbye to another family, cheerfully wishing them safe travels and hopes for a wonderful new home.  This time, we’re the ones leaving.  And we’re leaving in such a quick kind of way that it’s breathtakingly swift and abrupt.  We’re not just uprooting, we’re ripping the roots out.

That hurts.

 

The future

Of course, I’m excited about the future.  I’m looking forward to a home with a real backyard – something we don’t have here.  But it comes at the cost of leaving the only homeschool community my kids have known.  Their friends – all of their friends.  My friends.

In some ways I feel like I’m on a speeding train that’s zipping away.  Did we make the right choice?  Will this work out?  That safe zone – the comfort zone – is speeding away from us faster and faster, and there’s no turning back now.  Not now, when we have a closing date looming and chunk of responsibilities and tasks lined up ahead.

 

No turning back.  We’ve made our decision, we’re moving on.  I just wish I didn’t feel like we’re leaving our community behind.