moving (onwards, forwards, backwards, somewhere)
Something about an impending move makes being at home unbearable, maybe because it isn't home or because the walls house memories of a tough year? I came back after another night at my mom's to find one of the living room pictures hanging very crooked on the wall, and the microwave shifted back slightly on top of the fridge. Nothing else seemed out of place. I imagine the house shaking, quaking maybe. I'm tired of the stress. I am walking away from the stress.
Where do you begin when you need to pack, but you don't know where you're going? I know that mentally, emotionally, I am headed for calm water. I am leaving the war torn town. I can't figure out which room to start with. The kitchen? Dishes? Grace's room? Books? I am here alone; I can be here alone, but bringing Grace here is hard. I want to protect her from the chaos, from the anger directed at the walls which haven't done me any wrong, really. They are cracking and the paint is bad, but it's not their fault.
If I had boxes, this would be a lot easier. I'm a messy packer. I need to just throw things in containers and load them into a truck and leave. I got mail, today. Lots of zines, and a postcard from Berlin. I don't know what to change my address to.