the move

I feel the need to go back and start with my recent move. Leaving New York and Brooklyn in particular, was a lot harder than expected. I was excited and anxious to start a new adventure but that final push to get on the road and start my journey was endless. One issue was stuff, belongings. I could only take the belongings that fit in my car and that car is smallish. I felt like I was playing the memory game, “I’m going on a trip and I’m going to bring…” Needless to say, a lot was left behind. I did manage to stuff my car to the brim, not an inch of space to spare. It made the long drive to West Palm Beach seem even longer and more uncomfortable. Imagine having to sit in the last row on an American Eagle flight, in the middle seat with a lap child next to you and having to fly the plane from said seat, for 24 hours straight. It was comical and a little dangerous; sorry mom, I know you worried. I got a lot of glances from passing cars and trucks and way too many, “So, you’re moving?” at each rest stop. What gave it away, the lampshade, boxes, Vermont license plate in Virginia? Harmless enough questions, I know, but the sleep deprived me grew tired of it. Though, I never grew tired of my response, “heading to St Thomas” would always bring a smile back to my sleepy disposition. I finally made it to southern Florida after endless refills of bad coffee and trail mix. I arrived at my sister’s house at 5:30 in the morning. I took a shower, she poured me a glass of wine and I climbed into her bed. Her alarm went off 20 minutes later.