No, I haven’t dropped completely off the face of the earth. I’ve been working, and packing, and parenting, and working and packing some more. I’ve learned that I’m really good at gathering boxes from all sorts of avenues and figuring out what should go where and visualizing the process complete… but I totally suck at packing. Totally.
It’s bittersweet at times, pulling stuff from where it has sat for the last two years and carefully wedging it in boxes. I can’t help but flip through old journals, my fingers running across words that might as well be someone else’s they are so old and faded, swirled edges bleeding ever so slightly, memories of lifetimes ago filled with people who now only live on those pages. And the pictures and trinkets, rocks and shells, post cards and books that point a lazy finger at chapters of my life.
Change is hard for me and there are a lot of changes that come with this move. More than I think I realized at first. But now that the lease is about to be signed, check written, and metal keys will soon be in my hand, the other facets of moving are coming into focus. The endings, the beginnings, the new, the old. It is good, I know this, but there are parts that are sore and a bit achy and will take a bit to feel normal again. I just have to allow myself to see them for what they are, perhaps rest an ice pack on them or request a healing kiss from my love, and give them time.
I will be silent here for a bit, perhaps I’ll post a few snapshots of the process or the product. Depends on whether or not my new neighbors will let me sneak a bit of their wifi. Off to pack my fabric… that should take a few days in itself.
