"Building Up to the Big Move"

 

BUILDING UP TO THE BIG MOVE

LATE AUGUST 2013

The days have begun to accelerate even as they proceed with mind-numbing slowness.

And the finality of it all is beginning to sink in.

I knew this would happen, of course. I had steeled myself for it.

But it has still been strange and more difficult than I expected. Moving into my mother’s house for a few days has heightened the feelings of impending separation from the homestead.

I have only small chunks of days left to spend at my house, taking care of last-minute  
details—wiping the final counters, scrubbing the remaining floors, washing the last few windows, driving the screws into the plywood covering the leanto’s front door and window, snapping a padlock into place over the hasps on the shed doors, harvesting the last leeks and basil and lettuce and carrots and chard and kale from the greenhouse and garden.

Final steps on my way out the door. Soon, I hope, I’ll have paying renters inside this place to assuage the financial demands from the bank and allow me to use my income in my new environs.

As gradual as I’ve tried to make the changes, however, I still have decades of familiarity to let go of all at once.

No more floor plan I can maneuver with my eyes closed. No more Kenai Mountains and river valley to greet me over breakfast or to glow in the light of the setting sun. No more clomping over my snowshoe trails crisscrossing the backwoods of the homestead. No more roaming my circular driveway, my gardens and my old wooden sheds. No more mowing equipment always on the edge of permanent breakdown. No more happy, furry golden retriever loping along to join me. No more teen-agers tromping through my house and eating all my food, no more stressed-out mother needing my help next door, no more nice but scowling neighbor to drive by on my way into town.

No Fair presence to the north of me, and soon no unclaimed lot to the south of me.

With all this loss, one might logically assume that I’m consumed with sadness, but I am not.

While some of these things may have been lost to me forever, others—such as the Kenai Mountains and our friends throughout Southcentral Alaska—will be only temporarily out of reach.

I am making all these changes of my own volition, in control of all my faculties, and with a greater goal in mind. Even as Ii am fearful on the cusp of this commitment, I embrace these changes, the sense of adventure, and the opportunity to form a more permanent partnership with the woman I love.

Besides, I refuse to dwell on what I leave behind; I choose, instead, to dwell on the here-and-now and what lies ahead.

In only six days, I’ll be in Dillingham, ready and willing as this new chapter begins.