April’s almost over, and I’ve felt a bit like I’m floating above the surface of things most of the month. Not quite grounded, not quite flying, just a wee bit untethered. I’m guessing it has to do with the recent possibility that we might actually be moving out of the city before the year is out. Something we’ve longed for for years, but not found a way to accomplish until recently.
It’s a daunting thought for many reasons. I’ve been doing some purging/sorting kinds of things for months, trying to streamline in the hopes that when the door does open up, I won’t be slowed down by tripping over the amount of crap floating around this apartment. It feels good, and it’s tangible progress. My husband cleaned out his studio and filled two dumpsters before putting the rest in storage. The boys are stockpiling toys for a stoop sale. The “stuff” part is pretty well under control, but the heart stuff? I don’t know where to start.
I’ve started to look, just a little bit, at the things I’ll be leaving behind. I know it’s premature, as this whole thing could fall through for many reasons, but I can’t help myself either. I’m a pre-mourner, I’ve said it before. I’m looking at the city, and my days, with the idea that they’re not going to be like this forever. Who will I miss, what will I go crazy without?
I’m starting to realize how many bits of this city, human and otherwise, are woven so tightly into my heart that I’m not sure how to extricate myself. I know I will, somehow, and the protective part of me wants to process it now so I’m not caught in a tsunami of feelings at the last minute. Impossible? Yes. But I have to at least try.
As the weather warms I’m getting more spontaneous and that feels really good. Friends over, impromptu parties, and playdates that go on for hours. It’s all good.
Old friends …
… mixed with new friends …
… make for a full house and a full heart.
How do you know when it’s time? It just plain feels right for me, which is why I’m pretty sure the door is going to stay open until we get ourselves through it. Where to? No idea yet :). And the beauty in the fragments bit? Not only do I have more shards of NYC in my heart than I ever thought possible (this is HOME in a way no other place ever has been) but I’m storing up memories as fast as I can, packing them in, to savor when I’m in another place and another life. Some will tarnish as my perspective changes, but others will shine, tantalizingly, of that other world. That one I have now, that I’m sucking the marrow out of, one day at a time. Does leaving have to hurt this much? In my experience it always does. Those shards always catch me off guard. Are you settled in life, or in the middle of change? I’d love to hear.