moving day, 4/29

Okay, I got over the part where I dropped off my mother's custom made sofa and chair at the Habitat Re-store (that was worth about a half hour of desolate weeping, thinking about how precious it was to her). I got over the part where my brother spent 2.5 hours detailing my car (what can I say? It's the only way we can bond). The movers were pretty nice people, a husband-and-wife team and two helpers. The actual loading went very smoothly. Then, by 2:30 in the afternoon, my home was empty. Of everything.

To say I wept is an understatement. I wailed. I keened. I couldn't even begin to take in the breadth of what I was leaving: among the last places for memories of Mom, and the last family gatherings; innumerable happy times with new and old friends; floating in the pool by day, and in the hot tub under the stars at night; houseguests, houseguests, houseguests; hummingbirds, Cooper's hawks, white-tail deer, bats, redtails; trumpet vines, tupelo, sweet gum, azaleas. I felt as though I was ripping off a beloved skin, because that is precisely what I was doing. I truly didn't want to leave. Ever.

Of course, this is forgetting the cost of living there, the increasing use of the trails out back by ATV's and dirt bikes, the idiot neighbor who likes to drive his earth mover around all days of the week, and the inescapable fact of it being New Jersey, so full of angry, irritated and aggressive people.

I didn't feel good again until the next day, after we'd awakened in Somerset, PA, but even more so when we began the new portion of our trip. That is to say, until we were on new roads. The trip between NJ and Chicago is as familiar to me as my own face, and I'm pretty tired of both.

Of course it's not all about the house, though a whole lot of it is. Neither of us ever thought we'd be lucky enough to call such a place home. We felt like royalty there. It was the most glorious place we could ever imagine sharing with our friends and family. It was like one enormous heart.

But this grief is also about me and my relationship to my family of origin. I've never marched to the beat of their drum. Moving to Illinois wasn't much of a choice, since that's where work was for us. Moving back wasn't either, since there was work that needed to be done and I was going to do it. Being in close proximity to my family was tough a lot of the time, but it was also safe: these are people who no matter how much we might fight and irritate one another will still love me. Regardless. Staying there was a good way to not make choices, to not be my bold self and to not take hold of the adventure of my life.

This move is scary. Listen, we picked this town on the advice of someone we've never even met. We're moving just about as far away from family as is possible and still be in the lower 48. We're leaving over 3 acres of total naked privacy for a property ten times smaller where we'll definitely need window treatments. Hey, I'm not going to start wearing jammies any time soon, okay?

Wow. I'm living my life, we're living our life together, with consideration for no one else's expectations. Terrifying. Now what?