September 18, 2012
I am lifting my things from their places, wrapping them in newspaper and placing them in boxes. I get to keep the things, and in a couple of months I will unwrap them and find them new places. But these old places will be someone else’s. It has been so long since I have moved, and this is the house where I became an adult, raised my family, celebrated so much happiness, met so much grief head-in. There is a lump on my throat as everything disappears, as the “clutter” is removed so the house will look to a potential buyer like it could be theirs, like their things would fit its spaces. But the clutter is my past, my stories, and they unscroll behind my eyes as these simple objects leave their familiar context to wait in limbo for the coming changes.
One thing I’ve noticed about packing and unpacking such objects…is that there can be a flood of emotions and memories as you do so…here’s hoping all your memories shall be good ones.
slpmartin
September 20, 2012 at 12:02 pm
The things wouldn’t stay if the memories weren’t good. But most are tinged with saudade, missing people and times that will never return.
mairmusic
September 20, 2012 at 3:43 pm
It is always so hard to move. Sometimes even cleaning comes hard as we take down each treasure and book to dust and each has its story and each has it joy and “saudade” as you say. Sigh …
Jamie Dedes
September 26, 2012 at 6:35 pm
Yes, but it is also a time to count blessing for a life lived fully.
mairmusic
October 1, 2012 at 2:42 pm