Today we completely moved out of the house. There’s something conclusive and nostalgic about empty buildings. You stand there in a room that just days ago held the familiarity of home, and you wait for the voice-over — the one that poetically concludes the years’ ups and downs. And you look around as your wife plays Chopin’s Nocturne in E Minor for the last time on the piano and you say, “goodbye, piano; goodbye, bedroom; goodbye, wall.” And then you realize you’re being ridiculous. Cuz you’ll be back in a year.