On the one hand, I hate moving. On the other hand, my heart flutters with joy when I remind myself I am moving in less than a week.
Welcome to my living room. I am in transition.
I've started to emotionally detach from my current apartment so I can say good-bye to it next week. Yet I can't quite connect with my new apartment because I only saw the inside for a few minutes a month ago. I'm neither here nor there, focusing instead on the process of packing and the logistics of moving day.
I have lived in my current neighborhood for over 14 years. I love the tall trees, the shopping center with both Trader Joe's and Barnes & Noble, and the easy access to the highway. I know where the hummingbirds perch on a hot day, the best place to spot a Barn Owl late at night, and where to go for a solitary walk.
The new place
The new place looks beautiful from the outside, but I wonder what is waiting for me inside. Insects? Noisy neighbors? Chilly mornings and sleepless nights? I'm trying to focus on the good stuff-- top floor, private patio, bird feeders, and the sound of the creek. But it's hard not to fear the unknown.
When I moved 14 years ago to my current neighborhood, on moving day I woke up with a migraine and cried and cried. I had taken the apartment sight unseen because my rent had skyrocketed due to a housing shortage, and I was certain I would hate the new place.
When I arrived and saw the inside for the first time, it was love at first sight. I stayed there for over a decade before moving to a larger apartment within the same complex 18 months ago.
Another shot of the new place
The new place has many of the things I was looking for in a new home-- it is lush and green with lots of birds and a walking trail close by. But I had pictured myself in a rural setting, or perhaps in the mountains or by the beach. Instead I will be in the heart of the city on a busy street. I wanted a cottage with walls that are not attached to another residence. Instead I am in another apartment with people living on either side of me and below.
Fortunately, I can move again in six months if I'm not happy there. But I am hoping I will be. I hope it will be quiet, that I will find peace in the redwood and eucalyptus trees outside my window, that the sound of the creek will be reassuring, that it will lull me to sleep at night. I hope the cats enjoy the view from the top floor, that I will soon be on a first name basis with the folks that own the Thai restaurant a block away, that I will quickly learn where to spot wildlife on the walking trail across the street.
That is my hope. Soon I will find out.