Last night we moved into our new house.
Sorta.
The entire place is in disarray and our stuff is still mostly in suitcases. It feels very alien.
The place is furnished. I've barely looked at most of the furniture, let alone sat on it.
I still feel like I'm in someone else's home, and they'll be back in just a minute.
All the shelves are empty aside from a few knicknacks and matchbooks that clearly weren't worth transporting. The owners didn't quite finish clearing out before they left so we came in to sheets and towels still in their places from the morning of their flight. Teacups still in the drying rack. Fridge full of food. I don't want to touch anything in case I put it back in the wrong place.
They're in Mexico. They'll be there at least a year. They want us to move in and take over the place. It's our home. We're renting, not house-sitting.
We have an office at the top of the stairs. We have a guest room. We're not guests. We're not guests. We need a rug in the living room. It echos.
We're going to go back for Boy's guitars and books on Saturday. There's heaps of both. I should empty out the suitcases so we can refill them with the acres of pages. I'm chicken. The books may help with the echo. And the sparse look of the place. Empty bookshelves are creepy.
I got to school today. I'm not entirely sure how to get back. I have a map.
1 comment:
Dare I say that your writing has gotten better since you left the US? Not that it wasn't good before...it's just somehow more touched with emotion or something. There's a real visual quality to it - I can picture everything. It's very visceral. Does that even make sense?
What I mean is that I loved this post, and I know exactly what you mean, even though I've never moved into someone else's house. I'm sure it will be weird for a while, but you will make it your own. And you'll get all settled, and it won't echo as much, and the teacups will be yours (how odd that they left stuff out like that).
I'm expecting pictures, you know.
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