Two people’s lives have been condensed into 34 boxes varying in size from a small cd book to the largest at 2’x3’x2′. Twelve of those boxes are records and books. Art supplies make up a substantial remainder. My old-skool Christmas decorations have been trimmed to a single box, as have my kitchen supplies and clothes. The remaining boxes contain other “essentials”. I think we’ve done well.
It hasn’t gotten easier, all of this purging. I still wince when I throw my favorite candle holder into the Goodwill box, or the food processor, or a pair of shoes I like but seldom wear…
We’ve found a home for Daphne the Wunderkat down the street in our neighbor’s awesome barn, which is a relief. All the tools are sold, our art collection has been hung in the homes of our Olympia friends, and all but the coffee table and camping chairs have been rehomed as well.
My brain is buzzing and my back hurts. I am ready for this part to be over, and for the next chapter to begin. Even while I curse the cold and rain, I try breathe in as much of the deep living earthiness that permeates our forest, delighting in the blooming of jonquils and crocuses and wedding bell trees and the unfurling of tiny leaves that covers all with a pale green mist. I will miss our house in the woods. I will miss the Pacific Northwest.
I’m looking forward to leaving now, though. It will be good to see old friends, California, and being on the road always calms my restless heart.
Now, though, it is time for Thai takeout consumed in a mostly empty living room.