the great un-move. [part eins]

Matt and I have experienced five complete household moves in five years of marriage. There is a reason I specify “complete.” Most of them have been chaotic, all of them hurried, and none of them pretty. I would consider us to be good movers, and what I mean by good is that I mean we can get the job done quickly and completely. It may take us forever to unpack and put away and set up a home again, but when it’s moving day, it’s go time. Everything leaves it’s current abode to find itself in a new one before sundown. An item may not end up located next to anything relevant or alike and we may not find it for awhile, but by golly it is going to arrive intact. Somewhere. Moving happens inside of one 24-hour period.

Matt’s mom frequently relays the story of one of their moves that unfolded much the way all of ours always have; one of their dear friends, shown up to help them move, threw in the butter dish with a load of miscellaneous household items. Upon unpacking they discovered that yes, he had packed the butter dish. Complete with the stick of butter, along for the ride.

The jist of it is, Fevergeon moves are practical. Practical and effective. Just not always the organized process my mind, body, and emotions crave. At the end of our moves, I have usually dissolved into a puddle of tears. While unendingly grateful for the faithful show of help from family and friends, I always feel a bit undone myself, because when everyone leaves and we’re getting ready for the first night in a new place, I can hardly handle the fact that the garlic press is mixed in with the snow gear and the dog leash ends up in my underwear drawer. My mind tweaks out over the process of trying to find some semblance of order when there is none to be found. Every unpacking escapade feels like starting over from scratch. Where do I want this? The office or the living room? Do we have any storage this time, or are the bikes going in the kitchen? Where is the underwear drawer?!

This time, I swore it was going to be different. And dadgummit, I was serious. After my last day at my job at the college, I had three weeks to make use of before the first day of my new job. And so it began. Moving escapade #6.

I grouped like things. I made lists of what to do first, what would come next, and the process consisted of starting packing things we needed the least, ending with things we used the most. My plan was that by moving day, everything would be packed, and once we got into the new place, we would simply go backwards, unpacking the things we used the most and ending with the things we needed the least. Everything that was similar would be packed together. All rugs. All picture frames. All candles. All bedsheets. All kitchen paraphernalia. All shoes. All books. None of this room by room stuff. If it was a picture frame, regardless of the room it came from, it went in the picture frame boxes. Then I grouped all the like boxes together. Then I made groups of boxes. This was going to be an organized, logical moves, folks.

Nothing was simply tossed into a box, hoping it would survive because it was braced with, say, couch cushions. No. Everything was individually wrapped, carefully placed, taped in the appropriate box and boxes were labeled with sharpies according to where that box should be delivered once unloaded from the moving truck. This is what I was hoping for – order and reason! It was a thing of loveliness. What a pack-job to behold. I used all of the time I had to prepare.

Good morning, moving day. We awoke after having been packing until the wee hours of the morning. And husband was sick. He awoke with a terribly junky cough, a heavy chest cold, a stopped up nose, and a splitting headache. Off to the walk-in clinic he went! Back he returned with medicated cough syrup and instructions to rest! Uhoh. I encouraged him to rest and urged him to take it easy because, LOOK! Almost everything is ready! Can you believe it? It’s organized and ready! We just need to move it all to the trailer… OH, and go pick UP the trailer. And pack up the kitchen…

Matt’s parents arrived, along with my two brothers. While Matt picked up the uhaul trailer, the other guys began moving the (organized and strategically placed) boxes from their groupings in the living room out to the backs of the pickups, loading up whatever they could, in every nook and cranny, until the trailer would arrive. Joanne and I hit the kitchen, carefully wrapping glassware, and slowly but surely all the cupboards’ contents began settling into boxes. Matt returned with the trailer, the boys filled it up to overflowing, and everything was tied down with fishing nets. It was early afternoon and we were ready to take our first load into the city to the house. We had almost all of our belongings in this load. Only a few items remained- the piano, basic foodstuffs, and our bedframe would hold down the Mukilteo fort until load #2. Off we went!

Have I mentioned the heat? Seattle was in the midst of a heatwave with record-breaking temperatures for the city. Traffic was slow. After all, our move was so pleasantly occurring during SeaFair 2009. We watched the Blue Angels’ daredevil maneuvers while we sat idling on interstate 5 on august 1st.

Matt and I talked about our feelings toward everything that was changing for us while we sat in the pickup. My tumultuous experience at my previous job had finally come to an end. I had a new job in the heart of the city that I’d always wanted to experience. We were moving into a new house in a favorite Seattle neighborhood. I would have a 5-mile drive to work and Matt would enjoy the benefits of commute north, opposite of the thick traffic. Gromit would have a grassy yard to enjoy again. We’d have creaky old wood floors and walk down the street for happy hour at a cute little pub. We’d walk to pick up Thai food on nights where we didn’t have time to cook, and we could be at Gasworks park in a 10-minute bike ride. We would finally be a short drive away from the church we were growing to love, rather than commuting the 45 minutes that we had been just because we wanted to be there. We were going to have a Seattle address! The packing had been stressful, and leaving what you know as “home” is assuredly bittersweet, but those feelings were tempered with all that we knew was just ahead. It felt hard, but good. We were not 100% convinced we would love all the changes, but it felt exciting and it felt like it was only apprehension and fear that was holding us back from embracing it. It felt like what we were doing was the right thing to do, and that if we were nervous, it was because we weren’t trusting what we knew to be true- that this was right.

We finally eased off the freeway, and drove the couple of blocks up to our new front door. The landlord was waiting, I sat in the front seat and wrote the check, and Matt hopped out to take a quick peak inside before we unloaded. I followed him in, looking around to refresh my memory of all the details of the house, and my heart sank when I looked at Matt. We made eye contact and somehow I knew we were both feeling the same thing- our efforts to convince ourselves that we were excited and happy were falling short and the apprehension was winning out. Everything was different in the house today, and likewise, everything all of a sudden felt different in our hearts. We were afraid and we knew it.

[to be continued].