Moving is a bitch. I’ve never lived in one place for more than four years. IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. I don’t know if that’s sort of normal or not. But it’s my normal. I’d like it not to be.
For years I’ve had dreams of houses. Homes. Wandering through rooms that are mine to live in, to stay in forever, to decorate, to relax, to write, to sleep in and dream some more. Often these dreamy homes are light yellow with white trim and almost always they are lit with the type of glow that would come from late afternoon sun in the fall, or the light from a fire. A friendly fire, camp not forest.
I realize in the grand scheme of things I live a good life. At least, I’ve always had a place to live, when many people do not. But my heart aches for home, sometimes. My home. A place to be forever with books and throw rugs and my cat and maybe even a dog, with some things growing in a garden out back or even in a pot by the front door. It doesn’t have to be anything grand, just a place for me to land forever.
I’m moving again this weekend; all part of the great break-up of 2016 and one of the worst parts. I’ve had heart palpitations and anxiety in the middle of the night leading up to this. I’m inconveniencing friends and family on a holiday weekend to help me move my stuff AGAIN after just moving only three years ago. It all sucks. Dividing up stuff, sorting whose things are whose. Sorting out the Christmas ornaments – you can have the white lights, and I’ll take the colored ones. Is that your silver reindeer or mine? Jesus, it’s so awful. But I’ll get through, because what is the alternative? Breakdown? Nope. So I move forward, packing one box at a time.
It is significant, I think, that all the lamps in the house are mine. I mentioned it yesterday to my sister, that by taking all my lamps I was essentially leaving him in the dark. And she said, Think of it this way; you are taking the light with you. And my best friend said, You are taking YOUR light.
I’m not going to shine this light in those dark places anymore. Eventually, my light will be matched by something just as brilliant and together we will shine with the clarity that comes from living an honest and integrous life.
I’m taking my light to a new place tomorrow. It won’t be a forever home, but it will be lovely and friendly and filled with the laughter of little kids and a big yellow dog who will be “interested” to meet my cat. The sun shines through the windows in the late afternoon. There is space for a garden. And yesterday I did something I never thought I’d do – I bought a BBQ. And out on the giant deck, we can light it up and watch it glow.
Peace out and onward.
**All paintings by Frank Kirk