Moving On

I am someone who enjoys the quiet life. Tranquil places off the beaten path, calmness in my soul, stability in my relationships and predictability in my routine. After living three years in our cosy little house in the southside of Brisbane, my husband and I are moving onto a new adventure and in my foreseeable future is a lot of adapting to do. We are moving a little further out, for me this move is very emotional because for the past twenty years I have lived inside a particular grid where I can make my way everywhere, by bus or by foot. We are still going to be on the southside but we're going to the other side of the river, it is the furtherest that I have ever moved and when I am not day-dreaming about the lovely walks I will take, strolling through the local Sunday markets or shopping in my new local supermarket - I am fucking terrified, to tell you the truth. Because this grid that I have lived in for so long is practically imbedded in my bones. I used to hate that grid until I loved it, I grew into it and the grid grew around me, becoming a metropolis of shops, high rise apartments and infrastructure. I don't hate the new grid but I am going to miss the sight of familiar streets, places and communities that I have known and loved since I was eleven. In his past life, I swear Alan was a gypsy. He's got the moving thing down-pat, knows what to do and when and while it may come easier to him than it does to me, he's stressed out too and we made a pact to get out of Brissy for a weekend ASAP. This Saturday just gone, I bid my dining room table (that has been in the family since my folks got married) a very fond and bittersweet farewell to its new posting as a study desk for a law student. Being a sentimentalist, I always dreamed of Alan's and my kids growing up around that table, like myself, *Alexandra and *Cassandra did. The breakfasts, the lunches, the dinners, always beginning with "For every cup and plateful..." But I am happy that it will be going to a caring owner and in time, when Alan and I are settled into our forever home we'll be eating around the table we picked out, the one that I'm going to insist is going to be big enough for everyone to sit at where our kids will eat breakfast, lunch and dinner (unless its Thursday, Friday or Saturday night football or State of Origin), beginning with "For every cup and plateful", followed by "Please pass the fruit punch", there will be stories told, lessons learnt, good-natured bickering, spirited disagreements - thinking about the times ahead makes me smile in my heart. What I learnt from watching the dining room table being carted off is that ultimately we will have our dreams, but sometimes we have to let go of the idea of how something needs to be and what is needed to make it a reality. For me that idea was that my children would sit around the table that I grew up sitting at. Yesterday on my way home from an appointment, the UBER driver and I got into a conversation about moving and what a pain in the ass it is, but ultimately we had a good yarn about how we as people attach our emotions to material things. For instance, three years ago when *Cassandra was helping me declutter (by my request) she went through my box of momentos and held up an out-of-class pass from 2006...the year I graduated high school. And that is why I held onto it. Needless to say, *Cassandra was not satisfied with that answer and into the hollow abyss of the plastic bag she was holding went the out-of-class pass and my emotional attachment to it. Since then, I have been able to be more cut-throat when it comes to the culling process but there is still so much to pack. You don't know what you really have until you see it whole or in bits and pieces from one end of the house to the other like leggo pieces. For the past couple of weeks I have been crying every fifteen to twenty minutes while I pack because there just seemed like so much to do as time dragged and for awhile it didn't feel like we had made much progress. But looking around me now, to see empty shelves, bare cupboards and packed boxes - it finally looks like we are moving and I feel more at peace with what is to come. Moving is like a huge spring clean except rather than putting every thing back its place, you are wrapping it in newspaper and Christmas wrapping to make a journey with you. While there are some things that you have to get rid of or sell, there are treasures to be found in the most surprising places and sometimes they are things you thought you forgot, miss or lost. It is a wonderful, bitter-sweet feeling when you find something like that which brings tears to your eyes and feelings of pure joy and love. Because when all is said and done, love is what remains and that is what we hold onto as time goes on. Two more days until moving day, our closets and linen cupboards are bare, there is only two shelves left plus the essentials left in the kitchen and a block of Cadbury Marble chocolate that I am going to go and share with my saint of a husband who laughed when he caught me glaring at him as we worked side by side packing up the kitchen on Sunday, that little shit talked me into moving to a new suburb and it bugs me that he could do it. First he asked nicely, then he pointed out all the logical reasons we should move, followed by what I call the sexy half-hooded gaze, (wives every where hola at me if you know that look!) only to repeat the cycle again...and again...and again... until I threw my hands up in the air in defeat and yelled. "Fine, we'll move!" "What?" He asked good naturedly when he catches me glaring at him again, giving me that school boy grin that he knows melts my heart. I dream of that grin on our son one day when he is trying to talk his way out of trouble or butter me up to make him his favourite dinner. If he looks anything like Alan, the good Lord help me - I'm going to have to get better at looking stern. "You're mean." I told him. "I am not mean!" He protests and when I burst into tears because the messy chaos around us is overwelming, he hugs me hard and says. "We'll be okay, we'll do this like we've done everything else - together." How can I still say he is mean when he is being romantic? So this us, Alan and I - moving on, moving forward, moving together in this crazy world. Because life is an adventure and every one needs a side-kick who says. "I love you so much, I want to be crazy with you for the next seventy years." Sending you all the love and sparkle in my soul, - Sarah xx