In the flurry of vacating our apartment, our gracious and best friends let us into their home and lived with boxes piled all over their house for a week. This house felt like our second home before we ever actually spent the night there. It's the kind of gathering place where everyone ends up in the kitchen, sitting on counters and the floor. And the people in it were family to us.
Friends who can help you pack are maybe the best kind of people. They see your stuff up close and messy. They see you tired, frustrated, and mean. They tell you they'll wake up early and help you even though they have their own work to do. They tell you every few hours how they're getting sad but they don't dwell on it because they know you're sad too. They sit and take a break with you when you've had enough and you just want a lavender cookie. They lift heavy things while you fret that they are hurting their backs. They take care of the boxes that didn't fit in your car and the stuff that no one bought at your yard sale. They do all this for you even though you're leaving them.
And all you can do is be happy you know them and pray there are people like them in California.