I am feeling very scattered these days. One part of my brain is insisting that I must pack! Pack more! Where are the boxes! This part is very panicked by the fact that Saturday is almost here, and I’m nowhere near as ready for it as I think I should be. Another part sulks in the corner and says, “But I don’t wanna move! Want to stay here! With Johnsy! And Ani! And Baby, even if he does try to trip me every time I come into the kitchen.” This is the part that tries to persuade me that it’s a good idea to spend one more evening watching Bones and The Mentalist with Ani instead of packing, and that knitting a warm pair of house socks (all hard wood floors in the new place = icicle toes) is just as important as packing up my room. (It is a little too persuasive, seeing as I am wearing the just-finished socks as I type this.) This part occasionally argues with the other part of me who is excited about this move, daydreaming about things like gray velvet curtains, paint chips, accent walls, and the possibility of book shelves around the top of the room over the windows. And then the other part of me is in the quiet, dark place where I mourn my brother, remembering what happened on this day last year, patiently keeping vigil until we will be safely on the other side of this milestone (and we will be, I think, soon). And then there’s the few other brain cells left which are busy trying to think about things like getting to work on time, and what will I teach my swing dancing students on Monday, and where did I leave my wallet, and things like that.
It’s exhausting being so many people at once.
This is when I channel my inner Julian of Norwich (as I am wont to do in times of stress), repeating, “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” Sooner or later all this will be done. I don’t know precisely how, but it will. I will wake up, and I will be moved. And it will be well. With this in mind I can placate both the panicked and the sulky parts of me, rejoice with the excited part, comfort the grieving part (and allow her to be comforted by the dear friends and family who have been so delicately good to me the last few days), and soothe the slightly frantic part who is trying to keep all the other balls up in the air. All will be well.
In the meantime, I’d like to give a special mention to Aunt S, who came over Wednesday night to help me make the fourteen curtains needed for my new room. I like sewing, but I hate ironing things, and there’s no end to ironing when you’re making curtains. She pressed seams like a trooper while I pinned and sewed away, and after six hours hard labor (including a short break for dinner) the curtains were done. Eighteen yards of cloth cut and pressed and sewn and ready to hang. It was prodigious. I’d also like to mention my mom, who went over and cleaned the floor of my new room so I could put down my rugs before the furniture gets moved in. And I can’t say enough about Johnsy, who has packed more of my things than I have (at the moment, at least). I do not deserve such a good friend. Plus there are all the wonderful friends and family members who have promised to be on hand tomorrow to help. If tomorrow goes at all well, it will be entirely to their credit, not mine. I am very lucky to be so loved.
Also, as I’m sure all of you are well aware, there are a lot of people in our world not so lucky, particularly those in Haiti. If you would like to help a little, I would like to suggest you support Doctors Without Borders, who having already had a presence in Haiti, have been right in the thick of things. Every little bit helps, so even if you have very little you can spare, please spare at least a little.