by meridith falconer
We are moving, building a house. Obviously, this is very exciting and I am very grateful to be able to build a new home to our specs. For months I have been saying we need to purge, de-clutter, organize. It seems I view every object with a new "do I really want to move this?" eye. Rarely used kitchen gadgets, books, clothes have all been donated one, small box at a time. Those items are easy to give away. To free yourself of them seems productive. Today I was hit with a sense of melancholy. I looked around at all the unfinished (or never started) projects, the good intentions and felt sad. Sad for all the things I meant to do, should have done. The pictures never framed, blank canvases never turned into masterpieces. I've vowed that I will do better "at the new house." There will be more space for creative endeavors, more walls for hanging pictures. Right?! I'm terrified that I am imaging a new, improved me living "at the new house." A woman far more organized, creative and patient. I am letting myself be tempted to think something magical will happen when crossing the threshold. It WILL be a new beginning and a fresh start (of sorts) but I cannot fool myself into thinking all this clutter and unfinished business won't be settling in too.