comfort in transition

May 20, 2009

I’m sitting on my couch in my half-dismantled living room.  The metal poking through the cheap cushions, my body propped up by pillows from my bed.  Finished watching King of California and it left me smiling.  

I’m eager when it comes to moving, I tend to start packing even before I find another place.  Looking around right now, I’m finding comfort in my wine crates packed with books, the empty walls- void of artwork, piles of clothes (to take, to give away, to sell).  I’m obsessively scanning the apartment, trying to visualize if everything I want to take will actually fit into my car.  What will make the cut?  What do I deem as so important it must travel a few thousand miles from Vermont to Texas, tightly packed in my Subaru hatchback….  

  • My two beautiful, lush plants
  • Funky lamp collection (all salvaged from the depths of basements and thrift stores)
  • A huge backpack full of shoes!
  • Books (Popular Mechanics Do-It-Yourself set from the 1950’s, novels, textbooks, poems, and a spanish dictionary)
  • Only my favorite eating utensils, glasses, and brightly colored authentic Fiesta wear
  • Clothes of course (but only the warm weather ones)
  • …Still debating on bringing my trio of headless dolls
  • A chandelier I found buried in the dirt on my brothers land (to be adorned with candles on my balcony)

Yup, that’s probably all that will fit.  There is something so incredibly therapeutic about sorting through and throwing away belongings.  There is something so incredibly hopeful about moving somewhere new.  And also a tinge of sadness leaving a place you love.  But that’s how all meaningful things are; polar feelings and beautiful endeavors….

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