Canada

First Day of a Damn Long Time


It took four days to get here. Home. The inside of the house looks like one of those Oprah in need of intervention homes. Totes, boxes, furniture in need of assembly if only there was room enough for another piece of furniture, and somewhere in the chaos is my daughter, Rob , myself and Rob’s daughter, Jordan. There is a a transient feel to each room, and yet there is more permanence here than I have felt in any house, including the one I just left, then I have felt in years.

Rob needed to get to work early this morning, so I got up and joined him for breakfast. I could have slept in. He wanted me to because I haven’t gotten much rest in the last several weeks, but it was my first “normal” day with Rob and I didn’t want to miss even a second of it. Toast and tea. Who would have ever believed what a banquet that could be?

There is a re-coupled widower on WidowNet whose signature includes the names of both his late wife and his current wife. After his late wife’s name he has the date of her birth and her death listed but after his current wife’s name it lists her birth date and then where a date of death would be it says…..”better be a damn long time”. Rob cites that sometimes when he talks about the future which I find so interesting because he and Shelley were together for 27 years which is almost five times as long as Will and I were together, and still, it wasn’t long enough. Is there ever enough time to spend with the person you have chosen to love and cherish above all others? I don’t think so. Four days in a truck. Tea and Toast at 7AM. Moving and removing furniture. Talking about the girls. Making wedding plans and planning dinner. You need a damn long time for these things. Damn long.

Goodbye


Trusty Uhaul Truck

Image by Open Wheel via Flickr

The last tote was strapped to the topper of the Avalanche at about 7PM this evening. My best friend, Vicki, arrived with her youngest daughter and helped Rob and I load up the remaining items to be sold (or given away) into her van. The house was empty of everything but the few pieces of furniture that will go to my “niece” to furnish her new apartment next month. It was time to leave.

 

 

 

Time to say goodbye.

 

I went through the house alone. I had to close the garage door and leave the opener on the counter for the new owners. There were two openers. I think the other got packed. Next time we are hiring this packing crap done.

 

The last time the house was this empty was the day we moved in. Fours years ago in exactly two months from today. Four years ago. Katy was eleven months old. I was packing another house. Will was dying.

I can’t say that I will miss the house. I have said already it has few memories that one could call happy, and it was my prison for a long time. Still, it hurt to say goodbye. And it was silly really because like the hospice and the cemetery, Will was not there. I could hear him admonish me in a tone of voice that ranged somewhere between patience and exasperation, reminding me.

 

Outside and heading towards the truck and U-Haul with tears still streaming, Rob met me with an already sweat soggy shoulder and a strong, comforting embrace. Everything was still as it was a moment earlier and yet everything was all right as well.

 

Goodbye house. Goodbye Des Moines. But not goodbye to Will. After all, like Elvis, he had already left the building.

Moving: The Sage Continues



Have I mentioned how much I hate packing? I can’t imagine that I haven’t. I have been packing and purging and then re-purging and repacking for….ever now and there is still stuff in the house. How can this be? Early American pioneers traveled thousands of miles with a couple of covered wagons and they took nearly everything they owned and I am not taking any furniture other than my daughter’s bed, her dad’s recliner and a television, and there is still too much stuff! 

I am going on an acquisition diet. I have packed only about twenty hangers. That is all the clothing I am allowed for the closet anymore. Any new clothing purchases will come at the donation expense of existing items. Pruned the shoes down to about 8 pair (and just as an aside, I hate shoe shopping and owned probably only about 6 pair more than I am keeping). I have decided that keeping “fat” clothes is more effort than simply exercising and eating properly. And it takes up more space. It is cheaper to buy extra storage at .Mac than to keep paper and photos. And, the crown jewel of my newly organized leaf is that I am not going to allow papers to pile up. How? I have a few ideas, but suffice to say that the next move (in a year…..good god) will not be this painful (for me anyway as it will be Rob’s house we will be sorting and packing).

Six more days and then we will finally be home. To unpacking. Sorting. Rearranging. Large flesh-eating mosquitoes. On-going renovations and a few new ones. But home. It’s where the heart is,  you know.