I'm writing from my empty desk. The only things on it are my lamp and a pen. I had ambitions of working today when I was planning things out in the previous weeks. I guess I was under estimating the tolls of moving. I know from experience that you use every last moment to extract home from one space and transport it to another. But it's easy to think I might really have started early enough THIS TIME to avoid the push that is sure to follow. I was wrong.
Status update on packing: The kitchen is packed. There are very few things left. Mainly the requisite items to make tea, which is crucial to attaining our goal.
The office is packed. Well, mostly. Our desk lamps, computers, the printer, and telephone aren't packed. The filing cabinet and our desks are in boxes. The books are safely tucked away. The six foot monster wardrobes are very nearly empty. And the stuff in the closet has been stored in boxes, ready to put on a hand truck and cart away to the next place for the duration of our time here.
Our bedroom is going to be easy since I've been organizing Tristan's clothes as he grows out of them, and making separate bins for them. The wardrobe boxes will devour our hanging clothes. And our dressers will easily empty into a couple of large boxes. We'll stuff the bed linens into 40 gallon trash bags (for easy identification when we arrive.) There are a few other things in the closet that require boxing, but that shouldn't take long.
The linen/toiletries closet is nearly empty.
The coat closet will be empty once I thrown my bins of hats, bags, and scarves into a box, and shove the coats into a wardrobe box. (I love those things.)
Since I had to pack my toiletries to travel to Costa Mesa for my high school reunion, my personal incidentals are packed. I'll be fine for over a week with what I have in two quart sized bags.
We've now said goodbye to nearly everyone. Tomorrow night we have dinner plans with the Maclean family and with Dustin's dad. Then Maria will drop by to pick up whatever she wants from our refrigerator and freezer, and the next day we're off. This still seems surreal to me. I realize as I give hugs to friends that it's goodbye for quite a while. We don't even know how long. But I've only cried once so far. It hasn't totally registered how far away we're going to be in a short time. D admitted to me tonight that he's a little sad to be leaving. Me too. I guess that's a normal feeling as you close a chapter in life. Feelings of excitement are mingled with a sense of loss. I know I'm gaining a lot, but my time in this area has been the best years I've known. The friends here are genuine and our relationships are deep. This was a fantastic era. And yes, it's time to move on.
I'd like to write and post photos about some of the meals I made to empty out the freezer and the pantry. But it's getting late and I'm very tired. I've been pushing myself to get this house sorted. I pushed myself to pack and rise and fly to So. Cal. I pushed myself to stay up late the night of the reunion. I pushed myself to hit the ground running and pick-up the pace when I returned. I've nearly pushed myself into illness. As D reminded me last night, everything is going to fall apart if I get really sick. Better to go to bed and take care of myself. (Thank you, honey!)
I feel like I've been sprinting through life for the last two months. I'm looking forward to settling in to Bend, and enjoying a slower pace of life for a while. Once we have the boxes put away I aspire to: go through old stuff and get rid of what is past tense; garden; decorate; cook; can fruit; preserve vegetables; hike; get back into photography; blog; and maybe mountain bike. (Thanks for the urging, Simon Han.)
Thanks for reading. It means a lot to me that I can walk this path away and still carry my friends with me. I love you. Thank you for being in my life.
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