My husband and I decided to move over two years ago. We selected our new house and put our current dwelling on the market. When it didn’t sell, we accepted that it wasn’t the right time for us to pick up sticks, and so carried on with life as usual.
‘Life as usual’ has continued until this past weekend, when we realised that the movers will be here in a few hours’ time to put our furniture in a shipping container and send it across the Atlantic. It’s crept up on us. Even through all the planning and phone calls, our visual landscape hadn’t changed. It’s been a fact…but so far off in the future that it hasn’t felt real.
And so movers arrived and loaded up a container filled with our worldly goods, all wrapped up and nestled together. The goods, that is – not the movers. Our house is empty save for the things that the new owners requested for themselves, as well as the two suitcases of clothing and toiletries we each have set aside for the next two weeks. Although, if I’m being honest, one of my husband’s suitcases is mostly filled with my stuff. He’s much better at being minimal with his clothing than I am.
Because the last few weeks have been quite rushed, there wasn’t as much time to declutter as I was hoping. However, I’m sure that there will be time to do that at the other end. For now, I’m just going to enjoy the freedom of living in a near-empty house, revelling in the expanse of wooden floors beneath my feet.