Homefull 1.5: Moving Inward

inward
I say we’re moving in when we’re really moving inward. The movers left everything where we thought we’d want it. That was moving in, but we pretty quickly changed our minds. The kitchen, for instance, ended up impassable, so I schlepped all the kitchen stuff over to the dining room, which has been serving as the staging area while we scrubbed down the remarkably greasy kitchen. Likewise the master bedroom, unsleepable until I shifted everything over to Amy’s sewing room to create a temporary master bedroom staging area.

Once we moved in, we started moving inward in ever tightening circles. My office was the first inward spiral. I created my most private space no casual visitor could ever appreciate. My space.

I purposefully held off doing more than clean and cook in the kitchen until Amy had papered the shelves. The purposeful part stemmed from our last kitchen, which I organized while she was traveling for work. She came back home to find that her kitchen had become mine. Ceding that territory became a struggle for her. I had not intended to intrude. This time, I’m deliberately intending not to intrude, so I’m limiting my inward work in there to degreasing the cabinet tops and ceiling fan.

The front porch holds the detritus. A few times each day, I disgorge empty cardboard, duly flattened and carefully stacked by size. These, we’ll pass on to someone preparing to move out of somewhere before moving in somewhere else, before, like us, moving inward on themselves again.

Moving inward uncovers new private space, opening up what might otherwise simply confine. This house has always had rooms. Moving inward creates the nooks and crannies capable of containing this new life.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved












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