Four more hours
I begin this post from the elevator of my nearly former home. I have just placed in my car the car seat that was my son’s very first. He came home from the hospital in it.
Soon it will be someone else’s car seat. I am glad for its future owners, but sad to part with it. I am startled and sad how quickly time has passed.
I am tidying. I am washing laundry. I am moving small items from apartment to car. I am thinking about how much there is left to move and it is a lot; my life is split between what-was and what-is-yet-to-be.
I am overwhelmed. But I know, maybe four hours from now, I will be propping up my feet and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which kept me going through moves to South Korea, Japan, and back to the States. This is not such a big move by comparison, at least not in miles.
Four more hours. Just four more hours of this painful not-quite-goodbye work and I will be kicking up my feet and relaxing to Buffy.
That’s all I’ve gotta do: just get through four more hours.