Major transitions happening. M A J O R. Now. This very moment.Truck coming in a few hours. A month ago this date, November 2, was just a block on the calendar. Now, everything in boxes–approximately 70 boxes which is stunning in itself. And the other stunning piece is that I actually bought the boxes. Did not succumb to my passion for dumpster diving behind big box stores. And they–the boxes–in about a month–will be listed on craigslist–“free moving boxes”–
And it all feels so surreal. Meaningless is some big way. And silly. I have to say this–that having all of this stuff just seems silly.
And because this blog is a record of my days–a reminder to self of what was–I’m recording this now to remember…to remember a life that is no longer here. Somewhere, for sure. Just not here. The grandfather of boy child. A fine fine man. Suddenly, Thursday night, in his sleep, moved on…out…into….It was a shock. The suddenness of it. I remind self that this is how I’ve always said I would choose to pass. But now I’m revisiting that idea. And wondering. Looking at a belief I’ve parroted for ever. The notion that we do, in fact, choose the path of our exit. Is that so? Now I’m not sure.
And this morning, lifting up computer to put in a moving box, this doodle slipped out. Made recently, obviously. A doodle because cloth is in a box. But we don’t have to be.
Not sure when I’ll have internet again.