Packing, Moving, Mourning

It's been hectic here the past few weeks and it's not due to the Christmas cheer or the snow. In fact our Christmas has been abbreviated and the tree was taken down yesterday, along with the Christmas decorations around the house. It's all because we're getting ready for a realtor, open houses, photos of the inside of the house, and I'm just praying that the first person to see it will buy it up and we don't have to keep worrying about someone coming into the house, looking into the rooms and I have to worry about my cat.

I've been packing up all of my unnecessary things. Who knew I could amass boxes and boxes of books? I literally spent days just boxing up my books, compare this to two boxes of clothes (not even large boxes, mind you... and most of it was bulky robes and some bedsheets). Rich's mom looked in askance of my book fetish but she's not a reader so she wouldn't know. I looked in askance of her Norman Rockwell figurines but I don't say a word either. heh.

There's a melancholy feeling to all this packing. I don't know if it's because it's all done during a time (Christmas) when one should feel stable and permanent and "familied" or if I'm feeling a lot of the resistant vibes from Rich's mom, who packs under protest. I guess it's hard to pack and leave a house that you've lived in for over 30 years, and raised your family in. The real person excited and hopeful and delighted about this move is Rich's dad. He goes up to the various people in the house and tells them "14 weeks and 2 days" and walks away with a big grin on his face.

And even though I've disliked certain aspect about where we live (the people/snobs) (the extravagant prices for food) it would be hard not to mourn leaving it because I've had some wonderful times here as well. I really do like the way this town tries to preserve it's past and to keep it looking that way. I love our little, chic square and the clean, wholesome aspect about everything. It's as if someone were dying, someone with whom I didn't see eye to eye with but whose death would cause a dramatic change. So I spend the final days trying not to mourn yet, and enjoying the last few days here.

This is the fourth major "move" of my life. But since I'm mostly conscious for this one, I guess it's affecting me the most. The second one was from our apartment, where I lived for nearly 11 years of my life, and that didn't seem as drastic because we only moved 20 minutes away and most of it occurred while I was at school. We basically just got up and left. But this is different, there's a good chance I'd never see this place again and we're moving to a different climate, a different peoples, different place in the U.S. and I'm leaving a the house that I lived in for 6 and a half years of my life. Crucial years to the process known as "adulthood" where a lot of my experiences were never shared with my parents. Who knew I could accumulate so much stuff? I've lived here longer than the 3 nearly 4 years in our house in New York. Gah. Another long one. I gotta get going. Good thing I'm mostly packed. I could really just walk outta here with my laptop and cat and Rich and be perfectly happy though I would pout for a few days over not having my books. hehe.

I wouldn't know how to end it anyway.

Me.