We're moving. Did I already tell you that? We have a contract on a beautifully restored Craftsman foursquare in a historic part of our town. I am so excited to move in, welcome the grand old house to our family, and become her caretaker as she begins her next hundred year journey.
But I HATE packing! There are flattened, empty boxes stacked against one wall, intentionally tucked behind a chair so they won't be in the way, but somehow in such a way that they continually fall out where they can be tripped over. There is an ever-increasing amount of boxes stacked along other walls in increasingly inconvenient places, as things get packed. And maybe most frustrating of all, an ever-larger group of items that I pack, only to find that I need AFTER I seal the box with tape. Packing and moving has to be one of the banes of my existence.
Nevertheless, it has to be done, if I ever want to get to move IN to my beautiful new home. So I was packing today. And while I was packing all the fragile, precious things that live in my china cabinet, it was something of a trip down memory lane. There is the porcelain angel which plays Brahm's lullaby which sat on my dresser for as long as I can remember growing up. I think she was a gift from my maternal grandmother.
There is a set of three snow angel candle-holders. The odd one was a Christmas decoration my mother had before she ever had any children, but the matching angel broke. Several years ago, Peaches went on ebay and found the match, as a surprise Christmas gift. She bid on several, hoping to win at least ONE to make my pair complete. She accidentally won two of them. So the lonely angel now has two sisters that sit with her as a reminder of how much my daughter loves me.
There are the two green, depression-glass candlesticks that my mother had on her dining room table for as long as I can remember. I admired them so much that a few years ago, she gave them to me. They are a precious treasure, since art glass is a shared love between my mother and me.
There are several music boxes. One of them came from Germany, from a history tour I took with some of my fellow high-school students and our history teacher when I was in 9th grade. I remembered how excited I was to find such a beautiful, handmade, inlaid wood music box, and how frustrating it was to settle on a price with the shopkeeper who spoke only German, when I spoke only English. He was trying to barter on the price, as is the custom in Europe, I was only trying to explain that I wanted to buy it, being unaware of the bartering custom. It was quite frustrating at the time, but I DID end up getting it for a VERY good price! That still makes me laugh! And that one, beautiful, precious music box started a love and a collection that has continued to this day.
There are so many other things I'm finding as I pack...the china I picked when I got married, which I love just as much today as I did when I found it. Books that I remember as old friends, hiding on tightly loaded bookshelves. A favorite coffee mug that was a souvenir from a sightseeing day with a friend. an old t-shirt that has seen better days, but also seen me through all the best and worst of life.
I AM looking forward to moving into our new-old house. And I AM looking forward to not having to move again for many years to come. But I also can't deny all the joy it has given me preparing for this move and anticipating it. And I know our new house will be full of as much joy and as many memories as the things that will be protected in it.
No comments:
Post a Comment