two weeks a month in a new place. A new home. A new town. A new
perspective, and apparently a new era in my life.
Some time prior to May 31st, I spoke to my cousin who said “Moving = my number one least favorite activity.” He was spot on. It sucked. I didn’t even do most of the work, either. I have to give that award to my wife.
As the days counted down to our closing date, I became more and more aware of what the relocation would entail, emotionally. It would mean beginning to forget the memories I had formed at that old domain. It would mean they became fuzzier, more broken, and more faint in my recollection. I feared this change immensely. Indeed, I have significant dread about the fact that Now does not persist, and immediately fades. Of course, I’m not alone. Everyone alive faces this fact every day. But relocating meant being forced to recon with it directly, and in a visceral, intimidating, and sweaty (with lots of heavy boxes) way.
The first few days of the move were a blur of action and following directions from my superior officer (you know who you are, my dear 💍💕), but I finally began to settle in by the first weekend. There was of course a lot to get done – little things here and there that needed fixing or adjusting. If you’ve ever moved into a new place, I am sure you’re familiar. However, I remember when the sense of ownership finally hit me. As I was standing in the basement I paused and quietly said “This is my basement…”
It felt good.
It’s been more than
two weeks a month now, and home is finally starting to
feel like home. The house is mostly decorated and things have their places.
We’ve begun to sync into our new rhythm of chores and responsibilities. I still
miss my cat like hell. I keep seeing him in my Snapchat memories and just about
every row of my camera roll from the last two years. Chinobou would have been
the King of this new estate – he certainly is in my mind and in my heart – but
it seems that fate decided he would remain at the condo. Our cozy condo on the
second floor of our building, now forever Chinobou’s Regal Realm. My dear boy,
how I wish you could know the gigantic space you occupy in my soul.
Alright, alright, enough about dead cats. I’m sure he’ll be a constant theme in my writings, but this pain is mostly for me to bare, not necessarily the strangers of the world.
On a final note, I’ve been running recently. I am so fortunate as to be positioned about 4 minutes from a walking/running/biking trail that seems to just ooze with natural beauty, and my new running shoes are fantastic. The other day I completed four miles at a 9:01 pace per mile, which is the best I’ve done since ~2016. I am, as always, struggling with consistency, but that is going to be a lifelong, grueling war.
That’s all I’ve got, folks. I know this update hasn’t been too exciting, and frankly kind of all over the place, but I told myself I’d get another blog post out the door this week, so here it is.