We've packed up our wedding, the births of each of our children, the day to day mundane of our lives. I am trying to avoid heart failure at the thought of being parted from all photographs, mini DV tapes, and journals. I don't know that I am doing a very good job.
I have tried to put it in perspective. I've been telling myself "it's much more important that I have the actual child by my side. Losing the photo album really isn't that big of a deal in the scheme of things..." Except that generally the pictures are frozen in cuteness and the child most likely is not, so you can understand the temptation to do a little switcheroo: the kid in the boxes, the family home movies on the plane next to me. Kidding, kidding.
We might FedEx some of the really important mementos. But I haven't felt any better about that. My mind keeps coming up with scenarios in which the movers, the mailers, and the flyers all let me down. It's like I am in some game show and I have to choose a door and inevitably I will make the wrong choice! Sorry about that, door number 1 contained a room of fire! Your possessions are destroyed! You should have picked number 2 or 3.
But really. There is only so much room in my suitcase.
But it is a little unnerving to pack up all my little relationships into reused moving boxes; to send all my Jane Austens into storage for awhile. Oh my lovely Jane, will I ever see you again? And W.S. Merwin? And Ray? Yes, you, too, Ray Bradbury. Then of course my life soundtrack: So long, Sting. See ya Simon. Say hey to Garfunkel. Hey there Beach Boys, hunker down for the ride. Mozart, keep up with that Symphony #40. It's a good one. Pots and pans and stuff, not so much sentimentality. I try not to think about the furniture. Plus, it's insured.
I have yet to say goodbye to Jed Bartlett and crew. You know, you need someone to hang out with when you're so tired of packing and the baby just wants to eat every 15 minutes (Camille has decided that only cat naps are approved during the day time. What is that???). But the time is close at hand my friends. Time to pack up the White House. (Hear, hear! the democrats shout; NY is full of dems, of course. Sorry guys, I'm talking about a fictional WH, not the real thing...maybe in a few more years for you guys).
I know. Enough all ready with the moving posts. But this is it, I promise. The thing is, it turns out, moving is much more life consuming that even pregnancy. It's almost all I think about and it is all I do. But I am here to say farewell from my little blogging corner in Westchester, New York. (Sniff! This is where it all began...) I'm sure there will be plenty of blog fodder in Utah, but there won't be quite the same kind of fodder.
To all you dear ones staying in New York, I'll miss you. To all you dear ones who show up here at Bells, see you on the flip side.