I’ve marked off so many ‘lasts’ lately I can’t keep my pencil sharp! I’ve begun packing the things I put off to the end, and am sorting like a fiend. I wouldn’t be disappointed to fill the van with Good Will donations. It’s been overwhelming, but I was surprised when I began to feel almost hostile for no apparent reason. I chalked it up to being overwhelmed by the move and the amount of work I still have to do this week. I was only partly right.
Yesterday in my fencing class, my teacher and I caught hold of each others swords and were locked up, almost grappling, when he swept my legs. We went down together and he was kind enough to break my fall. Any other day I would have laughed it off and made him show me how to do it, but yesterday it tipped a balance I didn’t realize was there. I did manage to make it to the ladies room before I melted down and as I sat on the flowered couch sobbing into a Kleenex, I realized how much it felt like when our cat died in Italy. That’s when I realized I’ve been grieving for my old life. My children are grown and living their lives. There’s no reason to stay here in the house where we saw them through their teen years. I’m even excited to find out what new adventures await me in Chicago. And I can’t WAIT to actually live with my husband again! Even so, it’s been difficult to leave the familiar, to move without the kids. It’s not rational, but it almost feels like I’m denying my motherhood to not take their needs into consideration when I’m packing.
I have six more days, counting today, before I have to pick up the U-Haul and schlep the rest of our things to our new home. I’m almost finished with the ‘lasts’ and am eager to begin the ‘firsts.’ Prayers and good wishes for our safe travel and that I won’t run out of boxes again would be appreciated.