Boxes are filling up around us. We’re making a dent in our to-do lists. Doubt seeps in. Are we doing the right thing?
Then I remember all the reasons behind making this choice and affirm:
We are dismantling one life to build another, purposeful existence.
The movers need to be arranged, and the closets sorted and packed, and when was the last time we bought groceries….
Head and attention are going in too many directions at once, and I’m exhausted before I get started. Might be a little cranky too.
The stress of moving is real.
On our family chat, the kids have been making fun of the number of times I have moved house. Later, my daughter ask me about it.
“Don’t you feel funny about leaving all the ties you’ve made?” she asked.
“The ties that matter stay intact,” I assure her. “It’s the adventure of the new that I am looking forward to. Change always leads to good things.”
Well, in my experience anyway.
We are definitely in the throes of transition – the house is for sale, we can’t commit to a rental unit until we have a closing date, and so, everything is uncertainty at the moment.
We clutch at hopeful signs only to be disappointed. The couple who spent over an hour during the Open House have now decided to wait a year before moving. The man who showed so much interest was met with resistance from his wife.
Ups and downs.
I try to remember to breathe and be open to the process.
There is peace to be had, but only if I make room for it.
Sigh.
… or maybe the word is precarious.
The ‘for sale’ sign went up on the house Thursday. The ad online activated Friday afternoon. We’d already had a viewing scheduled before the listing went live.
In the meantime, we’ve been scrambling to pack up the excess and make this house presentable. It’s more work than remembered and we are both exhausted.
Another showing tomorrow, video-taping on Thursday, and an Open House on Saturday, and I’m afraid to admit that I feel a cold hovering.
So, yes, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic, and aware of the precariousness of my physical health.
Might need that ladder.
House creaks
ferocious
decries starkness
of bare walls
absence of furniture
finality of boxes
stacked and sealed
Sleep eludes me
mind recalling
passages –
his cancer
my fear
twist of fate
that left me housebound
We could not stay here
this place chosen for healing
turned prison
“You’ve been good to us”
I whisper, “Now
you’ll favour someone else”
She grumbles in response
this old house, sharing
my trepidation
of unknowns, change
always precarious
Another groan
and I concur
we grand dams
need extra TLC
but I have faith –
an injection of
new life
will do us both good.
(This is a found poem, excerpted from a post of the same name which appeared on my second blog in July of 2017. Image my own.)
Mom said sh’e leaving Dad
can’t take it anymore
we move.
Relocate. Reset.
Bullying at school out of control
can’t take it anymore
we move.
Relocate. Reset.
Truancy a problem
then the rape
school says I have to go.
Relocate. Reset.
Sister move back home
one unhinged, the other battered
Moms says it’d be better if I leave.
Relocate. Reset.
Shuffle boxes from relationship
to relationship, change careers
like hairstyles – is this boredom?
Relocate. Reset.
Never did grow roots
too good at packing up
trouble comes…
Relocate. Reset.
Tell you more, but we’re about
to pull out, the road is calling…
you know how it goes…
(Relocate. Reset. first appeared here in December, 2017. I am submitting it here, edited, for my weekly challenge: I’m bored. All welcome to join in. Image my own.)
The rumble of men’s voices
grunting shifts beneath
heavy wooden furnishings
The transition is underway
Broom and cloth at hand
I hover out of sight
Will erase each vestige of us
bless this passage, prepare
to welcome the new.
(Moving day! Prewritten for Eugi’s Causerie weekly prompt: transition. Image mine.
We will not have access to the internet for a few days. I hope to be back on the weekend.)
Front porch –
a balcony view –
retirement’s play.
Novel – this place –
silence stretches,
pauses briefly –
a car creeps by,
or a dog barks –
my heart beats…
inside – commotion –
pounding hammers,
swoosh of legs in motion –
not mine – body bankrupt –
mind impoverished –
no – not that – just struggling.
empty boxes pile up,
others – contents lingering,
unresolved – call my name,
but the front porch
makes promises –
there is time…
(I am a day late for dVerse, but intrigued by the challenge, decided to join in anyway. Â Today’s prompts are: commotion (Fandango), novel (Ragtag Community), poverty (Daily Addictions). Photo is front porch view – our first sunset.)
A single, blow-up bed
claims my stake
on this house
mostly empty –
dust remnants
of former occupants
rise at my passage –
I chase them
Renovation
will precede
settling in
yet, I will not leave
wrapping myself
in these walls
waiting for
the revelation
that this is home.
(Linked to V.J.’s weekly challenge: home.)
