Packing is Such Sweet Sorrow
My world is turning upside down in the next few days. For a girl who doesn’t necessarily like change, it has been a bit overwhelming.
I have been packing like crazy preparing for our move. The more I took pictures off the wall and put my belongings in boxes, the more it felt less like home and more like a sterile apartment. So I’ve been functioning (not very well – I don’t do well with disarray) in a partially-furnished apartment for weeks. I’ve had surprisingly strong reactions to seemingly simple things – realizing I won’t be able to use my return address labels (with my beloved green shoes) anymore, taking down the cards and pictures from my refrigerator front. I get teary. I assume I’m mourning my singleness and independence (which is ironic in and of itself since that’s what I feared so deeply after my divorce).
It’s not that I want to stay in Sunblest forever (I don’t). It’s that this has been my home for 5 years. The girls and I have traditions that I’m not sure will translate to the new place. Sophie has a box (literally – just an empty box) that sits under my desk in the bedroom. It’s her hiding place. She loves that thing and retreats there often. Likewise, every morning as I exit the bathroom after doing my hair, I call, “Okay Girls!” They race toward the kitchen because they know they’re about to get their treat for the day. And when I get home from work, Sophie greets me on the counter while Cloe is on the floor. Every time.
I went on a walk in Holland Park a few weeks ago; it’s the “circle park” that I’ve visited often. Tears came to my eyes, thinking of the times I’ve walked (and run) around it before. The people I’ve smiled at. The dogs I’ve avoided. I have a running path here, and I’ve figured out the places I can go when I’m craving nature.
I know the back roads well enough that I can get around traffic, school buses, and construction. I know the gas stations on my way to work – and the good places to pick up coffee. I’ll have to find a new grocery store, a new dry cleaner, and a new nail salon.
I’m sure I’ll figure out new traditions at the new place with my girls and find new running paths (after all, it’s right on the Monon) and places to retreat in nature. I don’t doubt that I’ll figure out the back roads (eventually) and discover new eateries and coffee houses and places to get my nails done. It’s just going to be different… and it will be good.
In the meantime, though, packing has been such sweet sorrow…