The walls are bare and the floor shines. I waltz around the empty house taking it all in. The desk can go there. The couch along that wall. Or that one? So many options, so many choices.
The color on the walls matches most of my things so I won't need to adjust that. Good.
Movers unload the truck and decisions must be made. I will put the couch along that first wall, the bed will orientate Eastward, and the kitchen table - well that one's easy. They do it with such ease and agility. It only takes them an hour or so. They are kind enough to bring the upstairs furniture up the stairs; however, now a hole exists. It was perfect...
As they pull away, I admire the dented wall. It's nothing some putty, paint, and sander can't fix. Cover it up and no one will notice, including myself. I'll walk by it 3 weeks later and forget that it was even there. That's ok. All the strong walls have rough patches. At least they didn't mark up the shiny wooden floor.
The wood paneling runs the length of the house. The sun shines through the bay windows and bounces off the oak stained ground. Everything is piled in the middle of the floor. A shadow covers the living room floor. The pile seems insurmountable. Oh! where to start?
I begin with the necessities - phone charger, pillows, plates, bar, and jewelry. The rest will come in time to its proper spot. Day by day the pile and shadow dwindle down. Eventually it is just the random pieces of a past life left. They file away into a junk drawer, closet, or garbage. And the days move on in repetition...
Things are put away in their proper spots now. The house is clean and the cat frolics in his new surroundings. An area rug lies now where the pile once towered. It is Sunday. Nothing planned, no agenda. Everything is good.
Too good? What comes next?? I fidget as I wait for that next piece, for the pipe to burst, for the grass to grow, for the carpet to need vacuuming, for something else to happen. I wait. The house does not need anything right now and I wait for it.
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