Thursday, April 2, 2015
My Alaskan Journey began yesterday morning as the movers arrived. I reacted much differently to this moment than anticipated, and I struggled to write about it by nightfall. My mind kept drawing a blank despite my argument that it is pretty lame when I cannot even keep my own self-imposed publication deadlines. Nothing but a solid blank came to mind, which surprised me. This contradicted my emotions of the night before.
On the Eve of Adventure I stared at the pile of plastic bins and boxes stacked in my bedroom and thought, “Well, this is my life in a nutshell!” I had spent several months of sorting and strategizing how to dwindle my belongings down to the smallest amount possible and how to move them from point A to point B. A move from Arizona to an Alaskan island is a difficult feat, because it requires a lot of purging of material goods. The decision process requires the perfect balance between two questions, “Do I really NEED that?” and “Can I REPLACE it when I get there?” By this stage in a game the pile was down to my needs and irreplaceable items. As a family history freak, I would estimate that my family history “treasures” took up at least a third of the shipment – we all have our addictions, and genealogy is mine. Who can replace history? We can repeat it or we can learn from it, but we cannot replace it. Therefore, these heavy bins of history are going by land and by sea to my new island home.
I cried as I looked at this pile of my precious possessions. Life in Phoenix had been good to us the last 26 years of our 37 year marriage, but the heat was starting to get to us, and we wanted a change. “We” should be going on this journey together, so why did he leave “me” to do it alone? I was angry and told him out loud as I sobbed. My children had previously helped me get rid of all his clothes and larger items. I couldn’t face it alone, but they had to go! Small things remained around the house as I sifted through the items to pack for my journey. Tearfests usually occurred when stumbling upon a picture of us together, an old greeting card or simply a paper in his handwriting. In my heart I know he is taking part in my journey from the other side. Nevertheless, that is not quite the same no matter how you try to look at it.
In the morning, the movers came and worked their magic. They made all my possessions disappear into their truck! I physically felt an incredible rush through my body as the tremendous load lifted from my shoulders. It was like the sudden decompression of a diver who comes up in the water too fast. I became numb, in a weird sort of stupor, as I realized my journey had now begun.
My belongings will take a 4 to 6 weeks to arrive at their destination. In the meantime I have other fish to fry as I prepare to join my stuff in a few weeks. Over the next forty days and forty nights I will be “stuffless” except for a suitcase full of necessities. I need to prep my house for the market, visit friends and family and enjoy some of the lower 48 before my actual arrival in the Last Frontier. I hope you will join me on this emotional roller coaster ride as I begin the transition from “We” to “Me”!
© 2015 to Present Patricia J. Angus