So, we went about collecting boxes, wrapping the fragile things and carefully packing them for transport. We moved the most fragile things ourselves as we had three days from when we settled on the new house to vacate the old house. A moving company was hired to cart the rest of the house contents and we were in our new house with one day to spare.
We quickly and methodically unpacked, emptying boxes, breaking them down, folding the clean newsprint and neatly piling the moving supplies in the garage to be picked up by friends who were moving the following month. The boxes we weren't going to unpack right away were stored in the basement.
About a year after we moved, we purchased new bedroom furniture. As I emptied out the old furniture, I realized that a few things that were on shelves in our old house were missing. They weren't things of value, just sentimental items that I figured were somewhere in the untouched boxes in the basement. And I'd look for them after the new furniture was delivered.
Well, I looked. And I looked. And I looked some more. And for the life of me I could not find those things. Eventually I quit looking and resigned myself to the fact that either the box containing them "disappeared" on moving day or they were in a box I thought I emptied and got thrown out with newspaper. I thought about these things from time to time, hoping they would surface, but they never did. Until yesterday.
My husband was unpacking a box to show some friends some antique teacups he had gotten from a woman he knew growing up. They were family treasures and she wanted them to go to someone who would appreciate them.
They were packed in a box marked "JKT things - fragile," a box that I thought was as yet unpacked from my husbands first move to my house when we got married (23 years ago). Apparently not. I must have consolidated things on our last move and packed my things in that box. And as he was unwrapping, the first item that was missing appeared. And then the next. And then they all appeared - a small Waterford crystal jar, a generic ginger jar that contained a prayer for mothers that my mom had TYPED for me when I was pregnant 22 years ago, one of my favorite pictures of my son from when he was about two years old, a glass box containing most of his baby teeth that I had been saving (yes, creepy), some assorted knick knacks and my rosary beads - a crystal set that had been given to me for my First Communion from my adopted grandparents who are both now deceased.
I was thrilled. I had thought about those things just last week and had hoped that they might still be around. And they were. And now, I can't complain about the teacups that my husband won't get rid of. Because if they weren't here, the missing items might still be MIA in our basement. And that's a scary thought!