Help! I’m surrounded by boxes! They’re taking over my house and shoving us out the door!
Ok, I feel better. This brief entry is brought to you by nap time, playtime in an upside-down bedroom, and a husband and bro-in-law who are currently running furniture to a storage unit. In a mere 5 days we will be on the road, leaving our house, town, and state behind. And now that the dust is settling, er, so to speak, I’m more excited on what’s to come and ready to put all this behind us.
Grief has had its say in the moving process, and apart from the occasional guest appearance, it seems to have left. Earlier this month I finished Anne’s House of Dreams. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. I’d tried twice before to read this book, but now, so many things in my life converged that I found I’d finally grown into it. There’s nothing so comforting as finding a book that perfectly expresses your own feelings, even if real life is a bit more stress and conflict and messy than the idealistic and scenic and simple happenings in the pages of a book.
And how this little house, consecrated aforetime by love and joy, had been re-consecrated for [Anne] by her love and sorrow! Here she had spent her bridal moon; here wee Joyce had spent her one brief day; here the sweetness of motherhood had come again with little Jem; here she heard the exquisite music of her baby’s cooing laughter; here beloved friends had sat by her fireside. Joy and grief, life and death, had made sacred forever this little house of dreams. Anne’s House of Dreams, p 224
Joy and grief. Life and death. I’ve known that too, here in my home. Haven’t we all? Leaving a house can be difficult, even heart-wrenching at times, but we bring the memories with us, looking forward to the new ones we’ll create.
And, scratch that about grief being gone for good. We’ve had a constant stream of help-and everyone’s been wonderful, for which I am extremely grateful!-but somehow I don’t think Anne, with her peaceful, solitary last moments of nostalgic gazing at her deserted house, could relate to escaping a strong personality who comes to help pack by happily rocking the baby to sleep. While grief isn’t as prevalent, it’s obvious the emotional roller coaster is still present, and all that goes with it.
But, it’s time to face the last tasks like a woman. And I”m sure, like Anne, I’ll find them to be a friend-even if a prosaic one.
Prosaic or otherwise, 5 days till the start of a new adventure! I can’t wait to see what scope for the imagination we discover in our new surroundings. I anticipate much inspiration for life and writing.