Moving

I have started to pack. It sucks, Big time.

The books alone in the basement took me a whole day. It is like seeing old friends again. Some of the books are from my childhood with my name scribbled in the front page. Some I like so much I own a bijallion copies. Some I forgot I owned so, I bought them again. Now they all lay scattered on the floor, counters, chairs, awaiting packing boxes. They are truly beautiful and I love them. I am going to love them more when they are packed and moved. And they reside on shelves. Shelves that need to be built. But they will be with me and that is enough for now.

The kid is excited. I can't decide if he is truly excited or is being nice to me because I have turned into quite a weepy puddle. His room here is nice. Remodeled when he turned 13, a gift for his teenage years. The Beach House room has not been remodeled and his bathroom is so small that he can actually bump his head on the ceiling if he doesn't remember to duck. But it faces the ocean, has a fireplace and an outside deck. Plus, it is not near my room so he can stay up as late as he wants and I am not aware.

So we start to pack. And we start to transition to a new phase. Excitement comes and goes. The ex shouts about us getting out but moving takes its own sweet time. Olive helps by peeing on the rug and Herbie tries to fling himself into the pool, though he cannot swim.

The fish tanks have been drained and the fish have gone to new homes. I miss them. The dogs know something is afoot and have been poorly behaved for days. I smelled a burning smell in the house yesterday and had the fire department come out. No fire, but lots of yummy firemen.

So we pack and pack and then pack some more. We will be having the largest of large garage sales this summer and Ebay will get the rest. I am paring down, in all ways. Except for books. More and more I say.

We walk the neighborhood, this neighborhood that we have walked for sixteen years. Same houses, same sidewalks, some same neighbors, some new. We look at the lake and see the eagles soaring overhead. We watch them bring the diving dock to our beach and know the lifeguards will arrive on Monday, just like they do every year. We watch the cars come and go over the bridge and remark how beautiful the mountains look. We see it all just like we have for so long. Then we took it for granted, for we had a plan and thought it would come true. Now we know it won't, so we try and imprint the memories. We look at everything with eyes that are truly seeing it for the last time. We hope it sticks. We hope the pictures will remain in our mind, that they will always be so vivid and clear, so concise. Then we turn and head back into the house to pack.