A sofa, a bed, chairs, and bookcases in Daydreaming on the Porch
- Jan. 12, 2022, 10:43 p.m.
- |
- Public
The day finally arrived yesterday for moving furniture to my tiny new apartment. It all went well. The movers were great. I forgot how strong people can be after doing that heavy lifting for a living. Amazing what they can do, getting a pull-out sofa bed, which to me weighed a ton, down a double series of steps from the upstairs middle bedroom/study. Same for the three huge, custom-built bookcases made by my brother years ago. It was nothing for them. I am still in awe.
The only problem was there was no parking in front of my house, so the movers had to haul my furniture on dollies half a block down the street where their truck was parked. I had bought four orange safety cones to block off a couple of spaces, but they never became available. Very frustrating. But the moving guys made things happen regardless.
Gone now from this home I have loved so much for 25 years are two sofas, end tables, the three bookcases, a desk and computer chair, a dining room table and three antique chairs, one of them 250 years old. All of this was Mom’s, brought here from New Orleans. I gave away all my meagre furnishings 12 years ago when I moved inro Mom’s house to take care of her as her dementia got worse.
When the movers left and I had come back to the house, it was a strange feeling to see so much gone, including the living toom sofa where I spent so much time napping and reading. It was very comfortable for such an elegant looking piece of furniture. In Mom’s final weeks I slept there a lot, including the night she passed. I was roused from sleep at 2 am on a late January morning almost two years ago, the exact time I was supposed to go to her room and give her morphine, only to discover she had passed only moments before. Those moments are forever seared in my brain. I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t.
This house holds every kind of memory imaginable. I simply can’t grasp selling it. A dear family friend’s offer to buy the house, which we had elatedly accepted a month ago, fell through, and we are nowback at square one.
Life is nothing but constant change, I tell myself , as I ponder tonight the loss of this cherished home in the not too distant future. Sooner rather than later, I feel sure.
A dear friend wrote these supportive words to me a couple of months ago. She relates to what I am going through so well. As with her, I am moving only a short drive from where I am now. It’s probably going to be a long time before I drive by the “homestead” once I have fully moved.
Here is what she wrote:
Have you moved into your new place yet? I know it will be an emotional experience for you. I felt depressed for some time after moving from my mini farm to a more suburban area for my husband’s health. It was a simple homestead, but it was where I felt most at home and at peace. I hid my depression well from my family. I still miss it, and it’s just a short drive from where I live now with my daughter and granddaughter. But it might as well be on the other side of the world. It was a way of life I had to leave behind…
Indeed, my new place will be on the other side of the world.
The sofa before, but with less clutter since it was the night before the move.
Today, where the sofa was:
Last updated January 12, 2022
Jinn ⋅ January 13, 2022
Since the offer fell through you don’t have to rush to move. That is one good thing.
A Pedestrian Wandering ⋅ January 13, 2022
Our attachments to place can be so strong. I had not lived in my childhood home for more than 40 years yet could see every nook and cranny in my mind and in my dreams. I'm convinced there is an emotional structure that is built within the walls of the actual structure, but the emotional one is never deconstructed and we feel its presence whenever the actual structure comes to mind. You can grieve a place as much as a person until you find its rightful place in your heart and memories.
IpsoFacto ⋅ January 13, 2022
I am wishing you peace, health and everything good as you get your footing in your new home. I’ve been dealing with my husband‘s dementia for a while now. He is 84. I know you will miss your home and your mother so much. Give yourself time to adapt.
Newzlady ⋅ January 13, 2022
So sorry to hear that the sale fell through. I wish you well with the adjustment. Having the familiar things will bring comfort, I hope.
ConnieK ⋅ January 13, 2022
A shame that the sale fell through but in this market, it will probably move fast.
Deleted user ⋅ January 13, 2022 (edited January 13, 2022)
Edited
I hear you. Not my last apartment, but my apartment before, I had a lot of mixed feelings. I had finally gotten good neighbors, I got a bistro set for the balcony, I was enjoying time out there with my bird, and even though I really could have used a new carpet, overall, the place was a nice size and layout. I would not have moved if not for the pool renovations and all the jackhammering while I was trying to work.
And yet, after the movers cleared everything out, and I did one last walkthrough, suddenly, it was not as poignant. Not saying that will happen to you---a house with a lifetime of memories is much different than an apartment of three years---but it might be easier to look at than a spot where only one cherished element is missing. When all the stuff is out, right down to the drapes (and those are lovely drapes, BTW), and it's just the walls, it might be easier.
I did walk past that place fairly often when I was in the Hell Apartment. Then one day I saw that they had not just trimmed the Crepe Myrtles I loved so much, trees that gave the balcony a treehouse vibe, but mauled them. They cut them so far back that they no longer provided any privacy or shelter on the balcony. I thought, "Oh, ick, yeah, not my place anymore."
Same for when I drove past the house I grew up in a few times, back on Long Island. The people who bought it took out all of my father's landscaping and shrubbery, beautiful and vibrant Azaleas and Rhododendrons, leaving the ugly cement foundation exposed. Part of me got annoyed---my father loved landscaping and tending to the greenery---but part of me thought, "Yep, not my house anymore. Now it's just a house. And a ghastly looking one at that."
Point of this novella is that once it's someone else's and they change things, you realize that what made it a home was your stuff and your memories, not the brick and mortar.
Deleted user ⋅ January 15, 2022 (edited January 15, 2022)
Edited
I know how it feels!!
I hope you will be able to make a real warm nest in your new apartment. I hope you will also meet new people and never stop to think / explore new challenges that come in your mind. Embrace every new day because time is flying too fast, and I always say: as long as our feet are friendly to us and our eyes show us the beauty of nature, and as long as we can smell the fragrance of trees, flowers and oceans ….then, let every new day feel as a precious present!