The Time Is At Hand

The final push is on. Sorting, pitching, throwing. Packing, packing, packing. Hauling, stacking, stowing.  Tomorrow I haul off the furniture from the kid's rooms, make another storage run, drop a few things off at the trailer and a few big boxes to the local thrift store.  In the afternoon I have to cram in all the regular stuff; a quick trip to the grocery store, taxi my son around a little, fix some dinner and clean it up, the regular loads of laundry plus a few extra that were unearthed in the kid's rooms during all the sorting and packing.  Tomorrow night, sorting in my room.  A large pile for the thrift store and a small pile to keep, at least that's the plan.

My husband works until Friday and then he's on vacation for a week.  That's when we get everything that's left, everything we own, seventeen and a half years of our life's accumulation of things, out of our house, our home, for good.

For years I've dreamed of this.  Years came and went and even though I never gave up hope, it seemed like it was never going to happen.  Now suddenly, almost out of nowhere, it is time to go!  Maybe things didn't happen the way we wanted them to, or in the time I would have liked, but the time has come at last and I'm so excited and happy and almost overwhelmed!  Now we're pushing it into overdrive.

How could this sneak up on me like this, I wonder?  I, who have planned this in the back of my mind for so long, suddenly I find myself with a week and a half to be out!

Seventeen and a half years is a long time to live in a house. Even though it has been quite a task physically, going through our belongings wasn't as hard emotionally as I thought it would be.  Even throwing things away wasn't so bad.  A lot of things have some significant meaning, or some sentimental attachment, but things come and go and we can't save them all.  I saved what I could not be parted from and got rid of the rest.  Sure, some things were harder to part with than others even after the decision to part with them had been made, but now that it's done and they are gone, it's no real big deal. We are fine.

BUT... now we are seeing our rooms emptying out.  Bare walls, empty closets and corners are sort of a sad sight.  The events of the years of our life had accumulated in all these odds and ends that were crammed into all these personal spaces.


It's the spaces: the spaces where life and family used to be.  They are getting to me a little.

It's more odd, or weird than sad, really.  Hmmm....

Our children grew up here.  They lost their teeth, broke some bones, knocked holes in the walls, played together and fought like cats and dogs, snuggled, laughed and cried, peed the bed, suffered and healed, shaved their faces, marked their height against the kitchen door frame, all in this house.   They were buddies.  I loved every second.

Our marriage grew up here.  We have had our worst and our best times here.  We've had our happiest moments and our saddest moments here.  We have discovered each other, come to know and maybe even understand each other a little.  We have hurt and healed and grown together here.  What a pair!  I'm so happy with us!

All the cliches I've heard others use about such things fit in right here: strands woven into the fabric of our lives, and strokes on the canvas of life and whatnot.  Struggles, triumphs, grief, joy, bounty and lack-- the parade of pictures in my mind -- we have really lived in this house.  All of this has welded us together and made us into one family.  I am so blessed.  Looking through all of this makes me think one should not wait seventeen years to open up the memory boxes and search the corners.  The now empty corners.  Empty sort of like the blank place at the bottom of a page just before you turn to a new chapter.  Yep... another cliche'.

What a great life we have!  Now our memories go with us into a exciting new future.  Now a new adventure begins!

More later.  Stay tuned.....