Finishing my tenure with H&R Block yesterday, I pulled out of the parking garage and with the drive home came a sense of open-endlessness. It was difficult not to turn off onto I-70. and go.
But I came home, to dive deeper into the ordeal which packing has made itself. Trinkets from the past repeatedly distract. An infant size Philmont shirt beckons me to dig deeper, until the waves of past no longer lap harmlessly around me, but rather consume hours of time and emotional energy. All the while I bear a sense of indignation that the physical manifestations my life story must be categorized and consolidated.
Yesterday I got as far as disemboweling my closet, whereupon a Kimono was unearthed. Naturally I had to Google how to tie a Kimono. Then I sat in the traditional Japanese style and read journal entries written as a 3rd grader.
I found a letter which 11 year-old Bethany wrote to 15 year-old Bethany in which the former inquired as to whether money was still in use, showers were still required daily, and was society still dependent on fire. 11 year-old Bethany graciously included a match and a coin in the envelope, in case her 4-year in the future self had forgotten already. 25 year-old, Kimonoed Bethany then wrote a letter to 50 year-old Bethany, relating this and other pressing matters.
Suddenly it was 8 pm and time for me to return to the present and meet my girls for supper. I hardly realized how important it was that I come back into the now.
MLE, Lindsey, Lisa, and EmJ have rooted and rooted for me, for over 6 years. Experience has made us good at parting ways; consoled in knowing a good-bye now precipitates a reunion later. When I am surrounded by them I am ensconced in a sense of wholeness. Individuals who have moved beyond the title “friends.” Those who have become so enmeshed in my heart that they are unique extensions of myself; as I am of them. I am humbled by the pattern which we weave together. Thank you, ladies.
It is now 5:24 on Saturday afternoon. I have so far managed to throw away a scratched CD and a pair of lady bug house slippers. The wall of “stuff coming with” has grown by two cardboard boxes.
The blessing of this whole ordeal is that Little Sister is going through the moving out process at the same time.
In light of all we have to do, she is laying on my couch, reading and I’m telling you all about it.
But fear not, fair reader, for it will all get done…Later.
Comments (2)
Remind me never to help me pack.
Wow, it’s early; my comment reads like a zen koan. I mean, remind me never to LET you help me pack.