As I type this post, I am sitting "criss cross applesauce" in the middle of my bed...just like I always am when I'm blogging. Sitting here like this, on the bed that I have had for years and years, has always been my thing. This spot is where I read. It's where I blog. It's where I write and talk on the phone and think about life. It's where I pray, and count my blessings. It's where I cry when I'm feeling down or overwhelmed. It's where I find comfort at the end of a long day.
For the past two years, my view from this spot has been filled with everything that makes me happy...everything that makes my room "mine." Tonight as I sit here though, I am surrounded by an unfamiliar setting. The walls that were covered in pictures and memories just a few hours ago are now blank and vast. The bookshelf that always sits to my left, full of hundreds of characters and stories, is now empty...its' books tucked neatly into boxes that are now stacked up on the same wall. My dresser and beside table now hold only the items that I will "need" for the next three weeks. Everything is different. It isn't my room anymore. It's just a space that used to be mine.
Moving day is in three weeks, and yesterday I went on my first major packing spree. I was so in the zone when I was taking things down and tucking them into cardboard boxes that I didn't really stop to think about what I was doing. I accomplished way more in one day than I had anticipated, and after stacking the boxes neatly against the wall I went downstairs to unwind. The fact that I had just massacred my sacred place didn't hit me until I walked back upstairs to go to bed. I stood in the doorway and looked at the lonely walls and the boxes and the clutter, and a brief streak of panic shot through me.
How is it that we get so attached to places and spaces and "things" that really aren't even that important at the end of the day? Maybe it's because they are the only constant things in our life. People come and go. Phases come and go. Experiences come and go. Mistakes are made. Promises are broken. But...home is always there. My room is always there to welcome me and comfort me when I'm ready to avoid all of the uncertainty that lies outside. It is always unchanging...and we all need something like that in this constantly changing world.
I guess I just have to accept the fact that my home is now as chaotic as so many other things that I encounter on a daily basis. Well...at least for the next three weeks anyway.
Posted by Miranda @ My Restless Soul at 5:25 PM