About 2 years ago (July 2 to be exact) I moved all I owned into my studio apartment. The red door. 720 E McKellips Rd D621 Tempe, AZ 85281. My home. Now as I pack everything back into boxes, donating the furniture to the IRC, I realize I can still fit everything I own into my car. It’s like one of those country songs about packing up everything and heading out west. Thank you Kenny Chesney.
I flip through San Diego brochures from my plans in early spring of 2009. One dream fulfilled, I made it to the coast on an amazing road trip with my sister, spent a few days on the beach and moved to Arizona where I have lived for 2 years. Funny how things change. Memories fill binders, the tangible takes up space, so I begin to pack my mind too. Storing away happy moments to make room for new. I must admit knowing I will only have 4 boxes and about 3 suitcases, a melancholy feeling sweeps over me. A “roamer” I was called by my cousin the other day. “you can just pack up and leave” she says. Yes, yes I can.
But I hate packing just the same. I think it’s because I’m ready enough for the next step in life’s journey, I’m just not ready to leave the place I’ve made my home for 2 years. And putting things into boxes not knowing when the next time I will open them. I remember packing spring of ’09. I had packed most of clothes and stuff, but then it comes to those awkward things that you don’t know whether to throw it away or keep it, and if you keep how will it fit in my car. So I just sat on my floor and dictated to my mother what to do with it. and cried. This time I’m by myself. No crying…well maybe a few sad tears when I leave my first apartment on my own…I’m learning to get over throwing things away and weeding out the junk I’ve accumulated. (As harsh as it may sound.)
I’m almost done…my stuff is packed…just need my clothes and shoes… 🙂