It was moving day, and I stood in the middle of what was once our bedroom. Now it’s empty, and I stood there alone except for the drapes and some dust we left behind. I marveled at how quickly four men can suck the life and furniture out of a house and into a truck. Twenty six years ago, one by one the cabinets were filled. Rugs were laid. Furniture delivered. Now, the process is reversed and the structure is all that remains. It’s funny how the rooms, when empty, felt smaller. Aren’t they supposed to feel bigger? Maybe not. Maybe it’s the life and personality of each homes inhabitants that give it space and a chance to breath.
With lightning speed we once again started the process of filling rooms not far away and making it our own. Settling into a new place is like buying a new pair of jeans. It takes time to get used to. But for nesters like me, the process is an enjoyable one. Figuring out the best place for the paintings and the most practical furniture layouts is a welcome challenge.
I thought about the cycle of moving. How the people buying our home left behind a home that in turn was bought by someone who left behind a home. There are always homes being emptied and then filled. Everything changes. Nothing ever stays the same.
We own a cleaning service, and interestingly enough the couple that moved into our home hired our company. So I had the unique opportunity to visit on the day of the clean. While I was interested in the work being done by our crew, I was more interested to see how the house looked and felt. It was, not surprisingly, different. And that’s how it should be.
When we leave a home, we only leave behind the structure. We take our memories with us. I read somewhere that ‘our lives are museums of private memories. Some memories we hold near and dear and are proud to display, some we tuck away in a drawer and some we try to forget’.
We look forward to making new memories, none of which we will try to forget.