The day had been booked in the diary for a few weeks. Ever since my friend knew the date they were moving. It had been a stressful time for them. Buying a house is stressful at any time, but during the pandemic and much of the time during lock-down it only amplifies this.

Thankfully I was just the hired muscle for the job – and it wasn’t my turn to be moving. I’m not sure why I was good for the task – I don’t really have the muscles and I tend to take over.

It was so lovely to see my friend so happy, after many stressful and anxious months. The new home is beautiful – I suppose the possibility of losing it played heavy on their mind, along with the desire to put down new roots and create a new home to settle down in, and leave the old behind. I had only know them in their old place – it wasn’t bad – it just wasn’t them. Especially after I had seen them grow and develop over the 10 years I had known them, and become a close friend. They had outgrown it – and the original purpose it served when they moved in.

Now, they have a new home, and I have the privilege to help them take their precious life things with them to it.

I felt so much pride for her, so much joy in seeing them happy, my soul felt nourished by seeing them happy, stress free after so long. It was just delightful.

Helping a friend move. Carefully with their things – large and small. Teamwork to carry items down stairs, in lifts, loading a van. Little by little seeing the old space empty. Then the journey. Slow. Careful not to dislodge things until she arrived. And relax.

Then, new home time. An empty space soon filled with cherished items. Beds assembled. Wardrobes. Chairs and tables. And of course the kettle. The much needed cup of tea. Sat on the newly positioned sofa.

My own joy of seeing a good friend happy and being able to help. To build an even better connection. A memory of that time together forever. Nourishment for the soul never felt so good, or tiring.