Is it possible to fall in love with a tree?
There’s a lot more to “moving” than shoveling boxes from place to place. Moving brings hundreds of little problems to solve and thousands of decisions to make. It’s finding out the sofa won’t fit through ANY door, and the kitchen pantry is around the corner down the hall. In this particular case, there’s the bewilderment of immigration paperwork, the exchange of foreign currency, and the translation of all measurement to the metric system. And instead of the commonplace default to bilingual Spanish, we now see signs in both English and French. Did you know the French word for restroom is Toilette??
The cute little house is amazing. Quirky and quaint. We emptied boxes of their contents, then emptied the empty boxes onto the empty porch, which filled up quickly and was no longer empty. At dusk, a friendly neighbor informed us of a Wind Advisory. Summer winds can reach “80” tonight. I know not if that means 80 kilometers or miles or milligrams. But what I DID know is we had to move our discarded stuff back inside for the night, transforming our wannabe Feng Chui into Sleep Among the Boxes After All.
Last week, five-year-old Andrew watched with concern as his mother emptied their shelves of food and clothing and toys. “We’re not going to survive in this house much longer–!” he expressed plaintively. Much to his relief, all familiar articles of clothing, cereal boxes, plastic bowls and myriad of toys have arrived miraculously in their new home. The trampoline has been successfully assembled in the backyard, and all dump trucks have been accounted for. The weather is spectacular, and the more time they can spend outdoors, the better.
That tree though…