On Moving

The move is finally starting to become real.

Yesterday evening I was out in the backyard, rolling up the fencing around the garden and pulling out fence posts so that I can mow everything to a level before we go.  Our house is becoming a maze of boxes which seems to grow every day as additional units appear.  Things that we have not seen in four years emerge from the backs of closets and tops of shelves, a sort of slow moving treasure hunt.

Moving has always been sort of an odd thing to me, odder because of the fact that growing up we never moved at all.  I had no frame of reference before I went away to college.  Now, it seems that we have moved every 3-4 years since we got married.

It is not all bad of course - it is one way to ensure that everything you get is occasionally reviewed to see if you really need it.  The chances that you have a massive build up of stuff is minimal if you have to pack it and unpack it every so often.  And ultimately it is a very good reminder that in the end, we will all have to perform one more move - but in that case we will leave everything behind.

The packing will continue, the maze will grow higher as closets and shelves grow more empty - until there is suddenly a mass rush to get everything out the door.  The event  will be unsettling - moves always are - but there does come at least one moment where, standing in the doorway of the house or apartment you are vacating, you can look into the empty space and hear the sounds of the life and events that occurred while you were there.  That, ultimately, never goes away.

And then, of course, comes the unpacking....