Mar 4, 2003 4 min read

The day came and went with little notice. It was two years ago Feb. 26 that my lovely wife and I, our cats Pepe and Tommy, dog Ladybug and Kennie Sue, our 10-year-old friend, officially took up residence in the lowlands, moving off the mountain (and out of the snowbelt – or so we thought) after more than three decades.

Well, Kennie Sue has a room in our home, although it is not her official residence. But we have had her in our home off and on since she was a month old, so she’s part of the family.

Anyway, when my wife and I decided to partner nearly 17 years ago, we both had our own homes, households filled with all the accoutrements of living and then some. Much of my stuff we sold off in a couple of yard sales and an auction. There remained a washing machine that sat in one garage for years. It worked and we planned to move it to the basement but never quite got around to doing it. There were other leftovers from my home, as well.

And, beyond what was “his’ and “hers’ we accumulated a considerable amount of “ours’ in the years before the Great Move.

Yes, we call it that, the Great Move, because it ranks up there with the Snowstorm of ’74, the Hurricane of ’72, etc., as being one of those abnormal challenges we must all face.

Much of it fell upon my wife. Fell is not an appropriate word, however. More like crushed, consumed, battered, etc., becoming a nightmare that she wanted to be over as soon as possible.

We had not just the contents of the house to get ready for moving but also that of a three-car garage. We had help, fortunately, getting everything ready. And we gave an awful lot of stuff away as well as tossed out a mountain of material.

There were times when she would ask, “Do we need this?’ And I would say, “Well, yes, probably.’ Her reply: “We’ll buy a new one,’ as she placed the item on the giveaway pile.

It took us a couple of months of intense effort to finally make that shift off the mountain.

So the Great Move is behind us. We have settled nicely into our little house on the street and, bit-by-bit, my wife is changing its appearance to suit her tastes.

I mentioned over the past weekend that our second anniversary had passed in our new home.

“I wish you would have said something before. That needs to be celebrated,’ she replied. “We should have had some champagne or gone out to dinner.’

Having moved more times than I have fingers on both hands in my five-plus decades, I hadn’t thought of it quite like that. But for my wife, this is only the second time she has moved. Also, there was the magnitude of the move for her, something like a 9.9 on the Richter scale of life’s events.

Of course with an anniversary there must also be some kind of gift, right? So what could I get for my wife? I know she’d like a treadmill so she could get some exercise during foul weather. She walks at the local mall, but sometimes she also stops and buys things. I don’t know if that’s a good thing.

She likes to travel, so maybe I could arrange to take her somewhere. But in February? The only place we could go would be south and, frankly, the climate there hasn’t been all that great.

She’s not much for expensive jewelry, although I could get her a gift certificate for some clothing. But that’s not very personal, is it?

I know. I have the perfect gift for her. It’s one she will adore and treasure for the rest of her life. In fact, I couldn’t think of a more perfect gift to giver her in observance of the Great Move.

I’ll find a nice card, one of those smushy ones, and maybe even buy a little bouquet of flowers to accompany it.

And inside I’ll write the thing she would like most to hear.

“We’ll never move again.’

I figure she’d appreciate that more than anything else. What do you think?

Have a good day.

Jim Pletcher is the Herald-Standard’s business editor. E-mail: jpletcher@heraldstandard.com.