“If everyone is moving forward together, then success takes care of itself.”
I revel in the simplicity of this statement.
We are, indeed, moving forward together…and thus, our success is taking care of itself.
There is an unearthly calm over me these days, which doesn’t make any sense. We have already scheduled when we are loading a truck, and what day we are driving out of state to our new home; and those days are creeping closer and closer, which is a perfect time for panic to start setting in.
I’ll be honest: the panic just isn’t showing up. I just want to get to our new home. I have grapes to plant, and astronomical groups to visit, and fishing holes to tour, and forests to explore. And the date when I can do these things is just within reach…
The funny thing is, life hasn’t stopped moving.
It is funny how life continues on, as if nothing is different or changing. The chickens got through their winter molt, and are in full force with egg laying. This makes me happy. I have let them have full range of the yard, and the three of them are finding every errant bug in the gardens.
The daffodils have begun to bloom, which I love completely. They have such a bold presence in the garden, and it is actually difficult to take a clear picture of the flower because the yellows are so crazy bright, the camera can’t capture the shadows inside the bell. Daffodils are certainly a friendly companion with whom to finish winter.
I am ditching quite a few large pieces of furniture before we go, which is going to make moving significantly easier. Both the kids’ dressers, the crib and this old blue IKEA chair are going to another family who conveniently needed some hand-me-down furniture. It has been time to upgrade some things in the kids’ rooms for quite a while already, and this will be the perfect opportunity to get bigger dressers…and the boys will get bunk beds. The boys are rejoicing, as we speak.
I have also begun the unearthly task of clearing out my desk. To say that it has been “too long” does not do justice to the insanity I am discovering. Fabric, old clothes, rogue paintbrushes, old school projects, and an endless array of books…and I am not taking anything that cannot stand on its own. The amount of books I have hidden behind my chair is ghastly, and I am curious to find out how much worth they will have once I hover them over the box…
Which brings us to the Library.
It is surprising to find out, now that I have begun an earnest packing of our home, how much we actually don’t have. Without going through anything, we thought we had “a ton of stuff.” It turns out we have “a ton of books,” and furniture on which to sit whilst reading the books, and shelves onto which the books wait to be found. I am trying to get rid of as many books as I can, since we have simply outgrown them. Baby books, early mothering books, infant nutrition books, (useless) books on discipline and sundry books we don’t need anymore. My Free Little Library floweth over, at this point.
Which leads us to the bookshelves, which are mere skeletons after I have stripped them of all their meat. Lo, the great Library of Rockwood has been sorted, dusted and packed into little boxes, and set aside. What we have left on these mighty shelves are church bulletins, W.I.R.E.D. magazines, Sun Microsystem binders and books I need to actually return to friends.
The Box of boxes stands as Ozymandius, looming over his kingdom of taped and labeled boxes:
“And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”
Goodbye, Ozymandius. Our journey is to kingdoms that can only be found at the end of roads that stretch far away.