The unpackers arrived the day after the movers unloaded our belongings into our new home. Although they title made them sound like something out of Pulp Fiction, they were more like a cross between family therapists and room fairies.
First they settled a decade-long debate with my husband by telling him they made it their policy to only listen to the woman of the house, forever anointing me as the big boss. Then they went room to room, emptying boxes and carting them away to their waiting truck, never losing the beaming, reassuring smiles amidst our chaos.
A few hours into the day, when the piles of paper and empty cardboard boxes had completely taken over the house, they called the kids over to ask for their “help” jumping on the paper. Even Bella wasn’t too old or too cool to get in on the action.
Seeing the wide grins on all three of their faces brought a tear to my eye, the first happy one of the day.