… at least, that’s what it feels like. Today I hit a wall of exhaustion and “done-ness” that I had no idea I was in danger of hitting. Three movers came by the house to peruse all our earthly possessions and tell us how much it will cost to put them all in a van and drive them 4 hours north. Meanwhile a dozen other moving companies call us (me) daily. I want to pull the phone off the hook, close all the curtains, go to sleep, and wake up on moving day — no, better yet, I want to wake up and be in New York with our bags unpacked, everything put away. Maybe someone went to the market for us, and filled a bowl with fresh produce on our kitchen counter…
I’m also getting pangs, the pangs of saying goodbye. We saw our friend Sean tonight, for the first time in weeks – someone we’ve seen every Monday for 5 years, at JINX rehearsal. Last night we had dinner with my parents and they brought a camera – a signal that this kind of gathering was now more of a rarity than it ever had been before. I’m feeling pangs, too, about the house itself, and all our things – our art… stuff we’re selling, or putting in storage. It’s weird, how much things, and buildings, come to mean to us. This was “our” house for four years, and now it will be someone else’s…to leave it behind as though it’s just a structure passing hands in a real estate transaction is so WEIRD. And yet, we don’t want our things to weigh us down – don’t want STUFF to be the reason we don’t travel, or live various places, do various things. Pursue various dreams.
Still, that doesn’t mean things, buildings, walls – that these things don’t mean anything. They mean a lot. And so do the people we’re leaving behind. Not “leaving,” of course – we’ll still love them, and see them. They’ll visit, and we’ll visit. But it will be different. That difference sunk in today, in a brand new way.
There’s no part of me that thinks the right thing to do is to stay. But leaving feels like wrenching a tree with deep, deep roots from the soil… what will we become, when planted in new, soft earth? That’s the exciting part. But the pain of transition is very real.
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Change is something that is always difficult, even when it is a change we want/choose to make.
It is still as you say: a wrenching.
You two are embarking on a new adventure: thrill and excitement are part of that, and so is some fear and pangs for what you know/what is comfortable. It’s all normal, but I think you know that.
Also the minutiae of moving freaking sucks. :-)
Oh, I understand. The hardest decisions are often the best ones. It’s important to recognize chapters in your life, I think, and move on when you need to, even thought it’s hard. You’ll always have your friends, and now you’ll have an opportunity to widen your experiences. It’s just hard to get through the transition: the initial upheaval and the first few months that you get settled. Just think: in one month’s time it will all be over. You’ll be settled. (If not in the middle of your vacation or just coming home to a new home.)
Chapters – that’s a nice way to think of it. Thanks Kate! And thanks Sarah :)
The tree/roots metaphor is an apt one, but in the long view, the wrenching apart from friends & family might be more like the physiology of building muscle mass — the muscle fibers have to be torn apart in order to regrow, reconnect and become stronger. Or if life is a book, sometimes the most interesting characters (friends) disappear for a few chapters only to re-emerge later on in ways we never expected. In other words, there’s no such thing as goodbye :)
Jen, this is lovely. I love the muscle metaphor and the re-emerging characters….. thanks :)
You must log in to post a comment.