From the before, a thank you

There is a lot you end up leaving when you move, especially like this, trading a whole life for a whole different life. You have to make room. You have to close. The night before we set off, before the full truck and empty house, Husband and I had dinner with favorite friends M. and J. M. and I shared an office when we first started out at school, which I have always thought was quite lucky for me, given his generosity, spirit, and overall awesomeness. He makes everyone around him feel valuable and full of verve. Also, jolly. I have so appreciated his friendship and stories, and I watch on in awe of his work ethic and utter genius. J., his wife, manages to be lovely, determined, sincere, and kind all at once. Beautiful! She is the kind of person you want with you in a fight, who would scold you thoroughly afterward and then take you out for coffee or something stronger, and save you all over again. I have no idea how she does this with such grace, but I'm terribly grateful that we spent our last evening with her and her husband. We passed around plates of deliciousness and caught up and laughed and said goodbye. I have no idea what we talked about. It was just dinner with friends, only not quite. For me, it was warm and final and fitting. Something like closure, if closure was a scarf you wrapped around your shoulders and took with you, that you could hang on any hook, anywhere, and feel peace.

The Brake

A few days ago, I thought, I want to go home.

I did not think this with wet eyes or the kind of ache I expected.

I was standing in the kitchen on the new rug by the sink, the rug that is green like our favorite cabinet and covered in the almost-arty cartoons of onions and carrots and the self-consciousness of its own whimsy. I had poured my tea before I remembered. I am home.

The cicadas here are nearly the same.

Here.

Greetings from the new place--

It has been a journey of nearly a week, but Husband and I are home now, safe and sound and almost unpacked. We finally have internet again and we both find ourselves getting ready to work.

I'll be retroactively posting the events/adventures/turmoil/elation of the last week and get you properly updated.

Until then, I actually have to finished this unpacking.

PS. Saw only one earwig since moving in. A holdover, I think, who wanted to stay with us. Who could blame him?

Hello!

It is Thursday afternoon, bright, cool, and the yellow truck takes up most of the driveway.

There is so much to say about all of this, about moving on and leaving behind, about these final hours, the coffees with friends, the sale of the washer and dryer, the quest for painted bookshelves, the best way to pack balsamic vinegar and bottles of shampoo, all the moving that I've done before and will do again.

I'm not ready, though, and there isn't enough time, yet. The packing isn't finished (and perhaps simply won't get finished); the utilities are not set up; we have little left in the house that is edible; the hours dry away, and we don't want to go to bed anymore.

I don't really know how to say goodbye.

Maybe it will just happen, like falling asleep.

PS-The guinea pigs, Ella and Amelia, know something is up. They are watching me, even now, with their wet eyes and small voices. Tomorrow, they will live somewhere else entirely.

Spasm! Spasm!

I woke up this morning with a terrific gnarly kink between my left shoulder and spine. I have another coat of paint to do on three sets of shelves, and one small shelf that needs prepping, priming, and two coats. I think this one of those moments where despite all temptation to whine and nap, you must simply go get it done. I'm not a fan of these moments.

I'm having tea with some friends later on this afternoon, and after that, I have a date with a score of unpacked boxes that need filling. Moving is lonely work, but punctuated with good podcasts, good company, and a good back, it isn't so bad.

A song

Today:

1 rum cake
2 boxes
3 painted sets of shelves
4 Craig's list ads
5 moving emails
.
.
.
It is getting like the 12 days of moving up in here.

Early to bed

Last night I went to bed at midnight, which is pretty early for me. I'm not usually in bed until after 1, and then not usually turning the light off until after 2. It must be the moving--

Husband and I went to our favorite restaurant for the last time (at least for the foreseeable future) for dinner. It feels like the start of the official goodbyes. I'm excited, yes, but as someone put it yesterday, you also have to say goodbye to the people and things that have been an important part of your life. In someways, it feels like saying goodbye to a life, without knowing how things will turn out on the other end. I have the usual first day of school jitters: what if no one likes me? What if, what if, what if. Going to bed feels like the right thing to do in the face of all these questions. Sure seems better than packing or painting! Speaking of which, I'm running out of time. Off to tackle more shelves.