I am discovering that there is a trickiness about moving.
Not in the spacial challenge of getting all your stuff to fit into the inevitably non-your-stuff-shaped boxes you have or in the packing 10 pounds of life into a 5 pound capacity moving vehicle. That part I adore. Spacial reasoning challenges are what I live for. The issue stems from the fact that I have occupied the same room for just over two decades. Over that time, I have created for myself what can best be described as a series of emotional land-mines.
I'm sure we all have them, for better or for worse. They are the items that I put away in this drawer or that shelf so that I don't have to deal with them practically. Standing in the center of my room next to a half-empty bankers box, I know exactly where they are.
There's the poems from my first boyfriend, in the hidden section of the bookshelf. The ones I originally kept to chuckle at back when we wanted nothing to do with each other. Now, when we are friends again, when the Navy is sending him half way around the world in a few months because he is in the Reserves and got called up, I'm keeping them for a whole different reason.
There's the box of who-knows-what that got stowed away under my bed when the Ex became the Ex. There could be anything in there, I really haven't got a clue. I'm tempted to just toss the whole thing away without opening it, but I know I won't. I'll go through it and think about what a colossal shit show everything between us turned out to be.
In the filing cabinet drawer, there's the ridiculous birthday present and the last letter I got from the guy who used to be my best friend. It promises that I'll hear from him soon. It's been a year and a half. I wish I could just let it go.
There's the copy of UK Cosmo that has the interview with my college roommate about the shootings at Tech in my night stand. There's the picture in the desk, of a girl who is like a sister to me and is getting married this summer, taken when we were both 6 before everything changed for her.
I put them all away. And now they are all coming out. Getting packed. Sneaking back into real life. I'm sure we all have them and that mine are no more emotionally volatile than anyone else's. But they do bring a certain trickiness to moving.
...or maybe I just laugh too easily and cry too hard.