HELLUVA MOVE

Bird Flying with its belongings to New Tree Home

I guess that one of the hardest things in life to do, especially when you're getting on, is move. I lived in a place that brought me a lot of peace, privacy and comfort for over nine years; and then it all came to an end.

Anyone who's ever rented for a prolonged period must be aware that each year the rent goes up. In my ninth year in my senior facility the economic knife finally stabbed me in the neck, and I bled. I had no choice but to make other plans. Yet I had gotten so comfortable, and so habituated to life in this little apartment that I felt grief and anxiety at the thought of leaving. A big part of my past would be truncated; and I had collected so many papers, artwork, books, clothes, cookware, plates, kichen utencils, all the tools of my trade, and all those precious little knicknacks that sit where they've always sat, making me feel like all is cozy, orderly and well; but there was absolutely no choice - no money, no honey. At least I wouldn't wind up in a shelter, or a tent. A very good friend offered to share her home with me. She had an empty tiny house sitting in her large, green gem of a back yard, which she immediately started to have upgraded since it had stood empty for some time, and was somewhat delapidated. Fortunately I'm happy to be leaving a facility that's over twenty years old, and whose equipment and appliances are starting to break down. The headache and heartache is the logistics of moving. What to throw out, what to pack; nine years and much more of memories, good and bad, that need to be out of my life because they've run their course. I have a friend coming over, in a couple of days, to help me dispose of my past, and pack the rest. My life's history will will soon be boxed, and some ready for the dumpster.

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