Friday, February 24, 2006
Now that I'm a couple days past the move, I can finally write about it. I knew the actual move would be an intense experience, but I have to admit, I underestimated it in every way. Prior to the move, all it really was to me was a list that had to be executed to get to the other side. A 6 page single spaced list. But it was everything that could never be on any list, that made the move such an exhausting and transformative event.
It started as a time of bittersweet goodbyes to friends and neighbors, and especially to Sarah's teachers and classmates. But also, a goodbye to everything we had called home, superficially and subliminally. One night, Don and I sat in the upstairs hallway, just overwhelmed by it all. When we built the Lisle house, we thought we would probably die there. He imagined Sarah alighting the stairway in her wedding dress. And that house holds so many memories. It's where our kids were babies, learned to walk, learned to ride bikes. It gave us a deep appreciation for nature, after spending so many years in the city. It was our first adult experience with suburbia, which forced us to confront who we were as human beings and parents, and actively reject the anaesthetized emotional existence we saw so prevalent among suburbanites.
After the weeks of planning, phone calls, packing, and low grade worrying that permeates most days, the day of the move had arrived. We had already waved goodbye to Don and the dogs in the car a couple days earlier. I spent several days with the girls wrapping things up. Driving by Sarah's old day care one last time, just to see it. Getting the house ready to shut down. And preparing for the airplane ride with 2 kids, 2 cats, and a retarded amount of luggage.
By early afternoon, the cats were drugged up and asking for some Led Zeppelin. Becca had made her shirt wet several times so it had to go in and out of the dryer because everything else was packed. Sarah was asking for toys and books that were packed. I got tired of saying the word "packed." But everyone was looking forward to getting on the plane and starting a new life. A new adventure, a new chapter.
Once our neighbors arrived to help us to the airport, we progressed to the combat mentality that one must assume when in the throes of a move. We dropped off the rental car and our neighbors helped us pull the luggage mountain to the ticket desk. The lady at the counter took pity on me and didn't charge me for the overweight luggage. The TSA guy at security took pity on me with the 2 kids and 2 cats and hand luggage and helped us through the scanners. I then walked like a sherpa, a cat carrier suspended from each shoulder, an overstuffed backpack on my back, and a little hand in each of mine, through the airport to the Admirals Club, where I had bought a one-day pass. By the time we were at the door, I needed a serious nap.
At that point we became Those People In The Airport Club. The people who, as a business traveler, you really wish would go away. The kids fought over their toys. They drowned out CNN. They spilled their snacks and drinks. They spread like an ink blot over the lounge. After an hour, it was time to get on the plane.
The lady at the gate took pity on me and let us get on after first class boarded. The flight took off late because we didn't have enough fuel to get there (why do they tell passengers these things?). The kids spent 4 hours developing a Vaudeville act of annoying kid behavior. They cycled between dropping their toys, playing with their tray tables, and arguing. I used the words no, stop, and don't, maybe 400 times. For an hour, they read and watched a DVD. But for 3.5 they were like caged animals. Ironically the actual caged animals traveling with us never made a peep, making me wonder if giving Sarah and Becca the extra kitty tranquilizers would be looked upon badly.
Finally the flight was over. We deboarded last so we could fish out all the toys, cats, and hand luggage. But it was over! We had made it! And most likely I will never see those people again.
A large limo driver took care of our baggage and helped us to the apartment, where Don was waiting. The family was together on The Other Side! How great was that.
The cats were up at 4:30 a.m. PST, their normal feeding time in CST. The kids were up at 5:30 a.m., their normal waking time. We've been in a fog since then. And every so often I still get a flash of worry that I don't know where my list is...
