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.
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