The boxes are never thrown away. Just simply stashed because there will always be another move, it seems. From this house to a next. I should be happy that my house has sold and on some levels I am.
It has been a lot of work to maintain the lawn, the house in general and I have never fit into the town where I live. As much as I tried and as much as I wanted, I was the one to blame the issues, to be called the trouble maker, to be cast aside. That is not really so bothersome because I grew up in a small town out in the country and was never able to be included because I did not live in town. I had created my world, as I do now. Although, today when I looked at all the stuff I have, all the memories, the aloneness and the burden of another move, feels very heavy.
I am very sad to leave the sweet kitties that have passed while living in the house and who are buried on the property. It seems a form of betrayal to them. They were all special. All came with their history of hardship from this little town. I worry what the new owners will do to their little graves. I have placed plants on top of each one however the new owners may dig them up and toss them in the trash. They don’t deserve that. So it will break my heart to drive off and leave them even though I know they are enjoying a better life in heaven.
It is the type of heaviness and sadness this town has brought to me. The other cats are so settled in this house. So comfortable with the big windows. The space to roam and I don’t know yet where we are going. It is as always, life becomes all about money. What and where I can afford.
I long for the familiar. I long to be settled and have for a long time. I long for the chance to just cozy in and know I will stay for a long time. That the cats will not be uprooted and as they pass, know I won’t have to drive off and leave their remains buried to the chance of a new owner. I long for all of that. I long for people to welcome me and include me even though I may not have as much money as they do. Or be able to put on the show by being flamboyant or phony.
Being a top dog has never mattered to me. What has always mattered to me is being kind to other people. Being kind to animals. Doing what I can so no one goes hungry or that a cat doesn’t have to live a mistreated life or go with out food. I try to treat the wild animals that venture on my property the same. Offering them food at night and water because they are beneficial too.
Yet will the new owners do all that. It is doubtful. Very doubtful. They will breeze in to the house, the town and be well received. They will play the game it takes to be top dogs in this small village where I have lived for close to twelve years. In some ways the longest I have lived anywhere. They will oohed and ahhhed over. They will play the game and probably enjoy their time here.
So today, I am sad. Sad that I will be leaving what is familiar even though it is an empty existence. I am sad that I have to leave my sweet cats that have passed and not be able to care for their little graves. I am sad because I have memories of them in this house.
Yet it is expensive to live in this little town so I must look elsewhere and hope somehow I can find a place to fit in for a change. A place where my cats will be comfortable and where maybe, just maybe I can live out the rest of my life.
Moving makes me wish I could just erase it all and go back to the beginning of things. Go back to how things were when life felt better. When family still lived and friends were around. When my old hardship case cats roamed around and enjoyed a peaceful afternoon nap. It comes with age though when people go on to the higher level. When our pets leave us too.
It is silly I know to allow a move to bring sadness. It is silly to long for the past when one can never bring it back. It is silly to not see the opportunity that lies ahead regardless of where that may take the cats and me.
I know like in the previous times, this too shall pass and I will gather momentum of filling the boxes of stuff I have no interest any longer of having yet for some reason keep packing into the boxes. Always thinking that maybe the next place I will have a use, or maybe the next place will truly be home. In actuality, I really don’t need much and would just as soon wipe the slate clean and keep just a few things. After all life really is about the memories and not about the things.
So I will, I know, rally and when the time comes drive away keeping the memory of the sweet kitties who passed. The memories we shared in the house that was always a bit too much for me. The memories of all the efforts to make the place home albeit if just for the cats. I will move forward and know that there is the chance that the next place may just be it as long as there is a wonderful screened porch for the cats to enjoy. As long as it is a safe place to live because in my heart, I know who I am. I know that whether or not I fall into the mix doesn’t really make me any different and I know too that those who build the fence to keep only the chosen ones in, are truly the ones who loose.
One must leave the harbor to catch the wind and that is I suppose is what moving is all about.