Start packing now.
That’s the best advice I could offer you. Even if you’re not
planning on moving this year or next. Even if you’re like my dad,
who wants his ashes sprinkled over my parents’ backyard, it’s never
too soon.
Start packing now.
That’s the best advice I could offer you. Even if you’re not planning on moving this year or next. Even if you’re like my dad, who wants his ashes sprinkled over my parents’ backyard, it’s never too soon.
You don’t want to end up like me – wading shell-shocked through a sea of Styrofoam popcorn, newspaper and cardboard boxes. I haven’t seen my floor in three days.
Our miniature Dachsie, Lucy, doesn’t know what to make of all this. Soon after we sold our house and bought another within a week’s time, we’ve been squirreling away all of our possessions and trying to empty our home as quickly as we can.
Lucy watches, clearly disturbed that her surroundings are slowly being dismantled. I try to soothe her, describing her new, spacious yard that she’ll soon be digging up and scampering around.
Meanwhile, our 8-month-old daughter, Emma couldn’t be happier gnawing on all the boxes and ripping up the already shredded newspaper. She sits among the half-packed boxes, crowing.
She’s my little cheerleader, clapping and smiling whenever I glimpse her way. I need some motivation. Packing up a house is a job, one that I wasn’t quite sure how to tackle.
So, for awhile I didn’t. Instead, I reached into my bag of procrastination tricks to prolong the inevitable. I visited my friends who just moved and toasted their new home. I went shopping for packing tape and plastic bins. I went out to lunch.
Finally, eight days before the big moving day, my husband Chris and I taped up our first 40 boxes and got cracking. It’s amazing how quickly they got filled. We thought we were doing pretty well. Then we went up into the attic.
That was a huge mistake. What we met at the top of the stepladder shocked and dismayed us. Picture Christmas morning thrown into a blender and you’ve got our attic. Ribbons, boxes, holiday decorations, and packing material lie strewn all over the floor.
My husband’s solution? Throw everything down the stairs where it lies strewn all over the garage floor. I’ve been afraid to go out there ever since. I’ll leave that space for last.
Still with all my whining, I could never leave this job to professionals. I can’t picture perfect strangers rummaging around in our closets, dresser drawers and medicine cabinets. Not that we have anything to hide – well, no more than most people.
At least I can finally begin to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. And it’s a U-haul headlight. Slowly but surely, our house is emptying.
Our voices bounce off the now unadorned walls, echoing in the stillness. In a couple days, it will be void of any trace of the Barbazettes.
While I am looking forward with excitement to moving into our new home, I am sad to say good-bye to our first home. It’s been absolutely perfect for us.
Chris and I stumbled upon it almost exactly five years ago while taking a little detour through Gilroy. Married for only nine months, it held the promise of a fresh beginning in a new town. During the past few years, it has offered us so much more. It’s provided a safe, comfy home base to relax, share a meal, set goals, celebrate, and live our lives.
Our home is bursting with memories, so many I will try my best to pack up and take with us. In my mind’s eye I see Chris and I cooking our first dinner in our kitchen, decorating our Christmas tree, finding out that we were going to be parents, decorating the nursery, and finally bringing our Emma home.
I know that the family who is moving out of our new house is doubtless remembering special moments shared in their home during the last 18 years.
I feel honored to live in such a loved space and look forward to our next 18 years and beyond living there. I see Chris, Emma and I seated around our kitchen telling stories, curled up around the fireplace, and playing in our backyard. I see mother-daughter tea parties, reading books, and getting ready for first days of school.
And with any luck, we will never, ever be stirred to move again. OK, back to packing.
Kelly Barbazette lives in Gilroy with her husband, Chris, daughter, Emma, and miniature dachshund. She is the owner of Write Now, a copywriting and public relations company in Gilroy. She can be reached at kb*********@***oo.com.
