The cat stretches, and then curls up like an otter, covering his eyes.
He has been watching us pack, warily, and with great trepidation. He has tired himself out by running to and fro, on things and off, sticking his nose under hands and running amok. His brother has also been watching us, although Gus is a bit more laid back, wide eyes in disbelief… we’re doing this again….not again…
Their sister, however, is the most relaxed… or is providing the best counter to all the commotion and turmoil. She has burrowed under the covers of the bed. If not aware, then at least asleep or ignoring the chaos ensuing around her.
We’ve entered the power phase. Drastic things are happening. DECISIONS are being made. I remember…I purchased that portable brass plumb-bob for my field archaeology class… We used it during the remodel of the Portland cottage… It looks cool…It has a lovely weight… It goes … away! *sobbing* “Not the plumb-bob!” … and so it goes.
We are tired. We are irritable. I say this feels an extension of the reducing of our material life during the farm exodus two years ago, finishing what we started. Vee says this cleansing is something different. Something new. Something with a little more acute pain attached.
100 pounds to each to carry. A small square of space to keep things here for return in two and a half years. The rest of your life … gone.