My inner child is showing its behind. It is whining, crying, and begging me not to pack my books. I have patiently explained that I have to in order to move. I have set aside books to take with me that are favorites. I have promised myself that I can buy more books if I want to and have the money when I get moved. Nothing appeases. Now that the books are almost half packed the crying never stops. It is wearing me down. However, my sensible side stands resolute. The books will be packed and ready for the packers no later than Friday. Then, next week the rest of the house gets packed.
Other than the books, there’s really not much left since I packed most everything during February and March. There are fifty boxes and thirty other assorted items in storage even as we speak. So other than the books and the piano, the house is pretty much empty. Right now, that is an advantage since some of my time is taken up by phone calls with the realtors and other pertinent people or workmen are here taking care of business. Plus, my aunt and I plan to clean as much as possible as we go and, hopefully, have only the floors and baths to do the day before closing. We have a great plan and will follow it.
Later this month, my uncle is flying down to help us finish up the packing and drive with my aunt up north with all her stuff. We have it all worked out. What I can’t figure out is why I am stressing, worrying, and fretting. Maybe, it’s the uncertainty, the unknowns, the knowing that at any time what feels like a house of cards will fall down. I need to have faith that selling my current home and buying a new one is built on rock not sand. It’s going to happen. I need to have faith.
But that inner child is busy now creating fear and constantly questioning. I am conflicted which is new to me. I have never felt this way before. I must remember that moving is hard work and the harder I work the luckier I get. I keep telling myself that in a month everything will be finished except the unpacking that my life will once more be settled, calm and peaceful. But I can’t envision it. Truthfully, reality hasn’t yet hit that I have sold my house and am moving. I pack even as I don’t believe. There’s that conflict again. I keep planning, organizing, moving right along all the while not believing. Totally weird for me. I am so blessed to have sold my house and am grateful, all the while not believing it has really happened. In a month, I will read this post and laugh at myself wondering where all the fear came from. I know that ultimately this is a good move for me. Not only will I be close to my daughter and closer to one of my sons but also the cost of living there is so much more affordable for me. So, I will move and it will all be fine. It’s just getting to that point of being there that seems to be the hardest. I already know that when there I am happier and freer so it will be good. Three weeks from Friday it will all be over. I, for one, will be grateful.