It's interesting how life can change in a matter of a few short years, even months. It is almost midnight and I just finished unpacking the last box from when I moved into this house on July 24, 2010 - almost one year ago. The five boxes that remained stacked in the southeast corner of my bedroom daunted and taunted me. I couldn't bring myself to unpack them. I am sure there is a psychological reason for my unreasonable delay. Perhaps I didn't want to really sever myself from the community I had lived in for thirty-seven years of my life. Perhaps if I didn't unpack them, I could have a visible and seemingly logical excuse for the disarray I generally feel anyway - my life is busy. Perhaps if they remained in a taped and packed state, I wouldn' t have to make the decision to throw anything away...
It isn't that I am a hoarder, but I am a romantic - everything saved has a meaning. One picture or greeting card might show why I made a certain decision and why I thought it was a good decision. Another thing might be attached to an incredible memory, a good one. Another might serve as a memory of a bad experience, thus serving as a reminder of my mistake or error in judgment. Learning to let go has been an issue for me, but one I am willing to conquer.
I look at the dents in my carpet where boxes once rested and I feel good, I feel liberated. That's not to say that my house and room are ship-shape, for they are not. But my last obstacle, the one that kept me from actually getting into ship-shape has been removed. I can move on. I do not miss the town from which I moved. I do not miss the 1.5 hour long drive I made each way to work, every day. I do not miss the stress of working so far from my children. I do not miss never seeing a sunset.
You can live anywhere. You can hang your clothes and park your car anywhere. But not any place can be your home, until you let it. You have to let it. My family moved from an inland, unincorporated Los Angeles County town to a beach city. The first five months we were here, it felt like we were on vacation - literally. That is until my vacation was threatened by a flood in my garage; torrential rains led to treacherous driving conditions, washed-out roads and bridges, and eventually, the rained-soaked earth in my backyard could take no more and the water seeped in through the walls of the storage area of my garage - threatening my "stuff." We wet-vac'd for days, hoping to prevent damage. No luck, it wasn't too severe but it was enough to knock me out of my dream state.
I was home. I am home. I think I can take a breath now, enjoy the view for a bit and then begin to strategize what is next. I have books on shelves and papers in filing cabinets, finally. I guess it's about time...