They Came

They just left. I stood on the porch and watched the U-Haul as it disappeared down the road, carrying inside of it some of my parents' treasured pieces. I feel agonizing loss mixed with utter relief over being able to finally reclaim some free space in the house.

NOTS (Niece of the Socks) and HDPH (her dear Painter husband) drove in from Indiana last night. They have been charged with the task of collecting things for my sister and other niece (Allergic One) in PA. They will store the stuff until they can rent another U-Haul and complete the task this summer. (I did suggest several more logical and less-costly solutions, but as you'll come to understand, I'm wasting my breath when I do that. Hell, I'm not paying for it, so I guess I really shouldn't bother worrying about it. Right?)

Neither Sister nor Allergic One can manage a U-Haul, let alone lifting heavy objects. NOTS can't lift, either. (What IS it with this family?) No, it was me and HDPH doing the grunt work. Yes. Sprained knee and all, I helped carry out then lift onto the U-Haul a couch, two dressers, several boxes, my bookcases that I rescued from my storage unit, a box spring, a queen-sized super thick mattress, and the foam crap mattress from the sofa bed that had been stored since July.

Sprained knee and all.

(The truck had a ramp. Several times I suggested pulling out the ramp. Each time I got "well, no, it's manageable, let's just lift it up into the truck." *sigh* OK, you won't mind waiting on me 10 years from now when I'm recuperating from back surgery, willya?)

Then, naturally, I walked my injured knee right into the hitch, or as it came to be known, the Trailer Fucking Hitch. That's the least ear-burning phrase I uttered all day.

There is more dust in this house than I ever imagined. It's measurable. In inches.

And so, it is finished.

Well, not really. It's only just begun. But I have space. I have room in my storage unit, in the deck room, in the living room, and in the china cabinets. This week, I can rent my own U-Haul and empty out what's left in my old house. Finally, I can put it on the market and eliminate that albatross from my life.

After the truck disappeared, I turned to go back into the house and paused; the snow has melted away from the front flower bed. All throughout the bed are these little fresh green shoots popping up everywhere. They weren't there yesterday.

Fitting that the first sign of spring would emerge on the day that marks the beginning of the real transition—moving out the old to make way for the new. It's like I'm going through a rebirth, and the world is responding in harmony with that.

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Labels: estate nonsense, family time, injuries

posted by Jeanne @ 4:16 PM