Moving is surreal. It’s a reality, but it feels like a dream. I’m not sure why. Perhaps is the change that is so huge. Perhaps its how much work it takes. Or perhaps it’s simply because you live on four hours of sleep for about at least a week as you try to get everything-and-then-some done.
The earliest memory I have of moving is when I was a few weeks after I turned five. We moved from Corinth, Texas to my parents hometown of Lewisburg, Tennessee. The one memory I have is turning cartwheels in the living room of our home in Corinth because there was no furniture (aside from a couple of mattresses resting against the wall) to get in the way. Funny how the rules change when there’s nothing left in the house to run over. (Or, more accurately, when your exhausted parents are too tired to care about the rules anymore.)
Today we moved. Or, at least, we loaded just about everything we own in a huge moving truck which we will drive out to Indiana tomorrow. Except for suitcases, a few boxes of last minutes things and bedding, our little duplex where we have spent the past 20 months of our lives is empty. And just this evening, Emry and Ethan were running about the living room in pure ecstasy of empty space.
It’s surreal.
It’s surreal to think the day we are leaving Pittsburgh has finally come. It’s surreal to think that I am not the child running about the empty house but that I am now the exhausted parent. It’s surreal to think that tomorrow we will be in Indiana, beginning a very new and, right now, foggy chapter of our lives.
But it’s also exciting. It’s new. It’s a change we need. So, I will rest in that. And go to bed so tomorrow I can begin yet another surreal day.
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