Tuesday, December 3, 2013

moving out, moving on

So I moved out. I packed boxes with books and kitchen utensils and candle holders. My cookbooks filled their own box, the heaviest of all of them. I packed about five more boxes of kitchen items than I anticipated, and spent more than I'd budgeted to outfit my new kitchen, and still there are things - like plates, like a pot to boil water in - that I am missing. I folded blankets and sheets and clothes into more boxes and my suitcases. I took frames off the wall and used the tail end of the hammer to pull the nails out (is there a verb for that action? I couldn't find one just now). My friends came over and helped me take apart and put together a bookcase, fill a moving truck, carry my clothes still on their hangers and buy a fridge. And now I am moving in, putting all of my things in their own new homes inside my new home, making a home for me and for others (if even just for a few hours of their visit). My last night in my old house I was afraid I'd made one of the worst decisions of my life to date, and on the first evening in my new apartment I drank wine and danced like a fool because no one was watching and no one cared and I love new beginnings.

This is all moving, all the physical placement of things. But I realize I've been putting off some of the other moving, the moving on. And I don't mean moving on like forgetting, but like packing and taking it with me. This is what gets lost in between all of those little boxes I drew next to the items on my checklist. This one can't easily be checked off because it will take time and sometimes it happens not when I plan. It doesn't all fit in a box. But to help it along, I bought gifts for my old housemates (or should I say, my second family of brothers and sisters and nieces), one of which I didn't even give yet. And I keep putting off the writing of notes, the expression of how much they gave me and what I am taking with me and setting up in my new apartment. The generosity and perspective and acceptance and memories that weigh more than my full box of cookbooks and will be what makes this apartment a true home.

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