I am in the process of packing. This involves all the usual processes. Making a visual target, setting up a box, wrapping the contents, all the while blithely pondering why I possess the things I do and what would my life be like without them. Easier to pack up, if nothing else. But as I put away these physical things I am also packing away memories, peeling away events, lifting memories off the walls, carefully wrapping them up and taking them with me.
When we do finally leave here and move on to our next adventure there will be a part of my heart that remains here. I love this place so very much, the sound of the water, the freshness of the air, the coolness the river affords no matter how hot the days. All of the many many foibles that this house possesses will become twisted into sweet memories: the draughty windows, the freezing hardwood floors, the wiring that doesn’t allow for the kettle and the toaster to be in use at the same time, the skunk family in the garage, constantly reminding us of their presence by perfuming the air with their trademark scent.