We're in the countdown. Four and a half weeks to go. Today, another lovely snowy day in New Jersey, I'm tackling my office. This used to be my youngest daughter's bedroom, but after she moved out to start her own life, it became my office. Desk, printer, file cabinets, and built in cabinets. Since we started de-cluttering when we listed the house, there's not a lot here to pack. Books, a few odd manuscripts from books published on Amazon, lots of notebooks filled with scribblings from the soul and story ideas, and a couple of decorative items. I could probably get this room done by noon.
Harder still to pack is the memories. Chunks of time nestled in my heart. Waking kids up for school, picking colors for their rooms, setting the furniture just so. Memories to hold and rooms to let go of so we can build new memories with the kids in Florida.
Tomorrow or the day after it will be another room. Another four walls of memories. Years ago my oldest daughter wanted to sleep in a hammock. My husband strung the thing across the room and there she slept, nestled in a neat macrame hammock with pillows and blankets and her dog. It was quite a sight but she loved it and it made that room uniquely hers. And mine in my memories and my heart.
We one time painted my youngest daughter's room pink with a bright pink rug that she picked out. When we put it all together the room practically glowed. My husband and I exchanged glances that effectively said, "What did we do?" But my daughter loved it so we kept it. It was her room and her joy to have so it was right.
Memories. Wonderful, warm memories of hammocks and pink rooms and a happy family. Now, at 60 I look back on all the years with a contented yet wistful feeling. I miss having the kids home. I miss family dinners and running to band practice and lazy days by the pool watching the kids play.
Packing is bringing back a lot of memories.
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