Get Started

Posted: 19 April 2009 in Charlottesville, House, joy

I have moved too many times.  The most exciting move was a quick one – from Flagstaff to San Francisco.  The second I took a breath full of mist, I settled in as if I’d always been there.  Always, yes, but also delighted at every new turn, each gardentucked away on a hidden stairway, and the taste in the air.  It’s not salt exactly, but garlic and duck and oil and crab and salt.  Although moving away wasn’t the most traumatic move (Evanston to Tucson) it was the most heartbreaking one. 

Since then I’ve moved with relief (goodbye Maputo) and a broken leg (hello, Sao Paulo).  I’ve moved across the street (2179 to 2200) and I’ve had moves that were goodbyes in more ways than turning in a key (1200 sq. ft to 900 sq. feet and thank goodness).  Less than a year ago it was about goodbyes again (Lorraine) and success (a new career) and because D was there with me at both ends, it was the easiest move.

Now I’m sitting in my living room with a pile of boxes stacked against the stairs and a roll of new tape nearby.  I’ve found it easier to clean up than to put things in those boxes, not because I don’t want to go but because I know we’re going to unpack it all again right away.  Because this will be the best move.  The move that, for once, sees all of the boxes unpacked.  The one that is on a quiet street.  The one that’s ours.  The one that brings us home.

You’d think that would motivate me to get started, but it has only induced some sort of forward-looking hypnosis.  I spent the time I should be taping thinking of paint colors, mornings on the deck, friendly neighbors.  I imagine that once I get started, it will just come.  The point is to get started.

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Comments
  1. Congratulations and thank you for your service.

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