Moving. Literally.

May 8, 2K15

Saying goodbye is ranked pretty high on my list of things I really don’t enjoy doing. I’m also one of those people, however, who kind of enjoys it. I get a sick sort of cleansing, anxious, giddy feeling about cleaning out rooms, leaving towns, moving apartments, throwing just about anything away, clearing clutter. I love open space. I’m drawn to opportunity on the ground level, the place where you have absolutely nowhere to go but up and out.

We officially bid farewell to our home for the last decade or so today. Packing either makes you realize how much stuff you have, or how much stuff you really don’t need. If you’re lucky, and maybe even wise, you are hit with a bit of both.

This house is drowning in memories. Moments I’ve either repressed for my own well-being or moments I’m gladly reminded of whenever I enter a room. 5626 East Dickinson Lane is a beautiful home, but without our soft white couch downstairs and our large mirror in the living room, the space feels less like an open wound and more like a flat soiled surface. As I sit here now, in the desolate basement, I’m not so much saying goodbye as I am welcoming in whomever is residing here next.

I don’t want these memories back. The past was once mine already, and I lived in those days as fully and resolutely as they deserved. I know this now barren house tells more stories than the next family will ever know, and in the same sense, I’m aware there will be future stories in these rooms that won’t hold my attention whatsoever.

I love and hate goodbyes for that reason. Once you say goodbye, once you leave permanently, you give the person and the place, permission to move on. To grow and shift and move, without you.

To be able to view goodbyes as beginnings more than endings though, is to have successfully grown up. Maybe that’s dramatic, but I think it’s more spot on than we’d like to admit. Tomorrow, when we embark on our journey back to the big sky country, I hope to be content.

While watching the cars travel past me and the miles accumulate and lessen all at once, I expect to get hit with a wave of that familiar sick, anxious, giddy feeling, because hey, we’re starting from the ground up.



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