I am rehoming my life, my dog’s life, and all that I deem necessary and essential to us.
We Are Moving.
I had forgotten how taxing moving can be; the toll it takes on the mind, body, and soul, but daily, I am slowly being reminded of this. Almost five years of belongings are gradually being packed or discarded and with all of my keen selection in what goes, what will be donated, trashed, or simply given to family and friends, I do not feel more accomplished in this today than I did yesterday. The process feels neverending.
Jernee shadows me, snaps at my heels, and carefully paces from room to room as everything in her realm shifts. I try to keep our home-life ritualistic. Moving makes her frantic and me nervous and anxious. Needless to say, we are the perfect team when this form of change takes place. We are equal parts terrified and excited, yet eager to move on and get settled.
Amongst the items that I will give away are my washing machine and dryer. This dynamic duo will go to my Mother. She has been bugging me about a washer and dryer for years. I have heard her significant quips and hints in requesting her personal laundromat and soon, I will not have to be subjected to them any longer. Her birthday is coming up and in glorified Virgo fashion, she is ready to celebrate for the entire month of September.
Our new space comes equipped with a washer and dryer, therefore, the movers will not have to worry about lugging the set down steep flights of stairs. They will have enough in here to render them both thirsty and tired. I have offered to pay whomever my Mom selects to come to my place and pick up her gently used items. She has already gathered a small crew and this is music to my ears as I simply cannot worry about transporting things that are not coming with me. My lists of to-dos are entirely too long and I do not envision any additions to those lists.
As I watch my big-enough-for Jernee and I space change, I am filled with sadness. We have spent close to five years making this place our home and the memories that we built here cannot be counted. The Powerhouse and Nala were here the other day. Along with them was the Powerhouse’s Ex. I always thought the two of them made a great couple. We laughed, we talked, and we caught up on years of missed conversations and my home was full of peace. I sat and watched them interact and I mentally logged every moment so that they will live on in the crevices of my aging mind.
I am taking these gifts with me.
My memories… They will shelter me if ever I feel ill at ease or fearful in our new place. As I write this, I am drying a load of clothes and the swoosh-thump-thwat-pssh of May’s Tag soothes me. I will remember these sounds and compare them to the new dryer’s specs and capabilities. Perhaps, it will comfort me when comforting is needed. I worry about Jernee in all of this. I can almost hear her barking at the movers, wondering to where our stuff is being hauled, watching me shuffle, move, and direct while she figures out her role. Things are slowing down a bit for us and soon, I will have time to breathe like the Lord intended.
We Are Moving…
And the journey awaiting us may or may not be what we expect, but we are ready for what lies ahead.
We have to be.
Originally published for The Weekly Knob prompt “washing machine” via Medium.