Moving

(I wrote this Sunday night but I am delayed in posting because we didn’t have cable until ten minutes ago.)

Dear Dad,

We moved. We finally got out of the toxic environment of our condo. I feel a sense of freedom as if I am no longer stuck. I’m still in New Jersey, and I’m by no means in my dream home, but it’s as if the glue has come undone. After years of being miserable, we’ve taken a step in the right direction. And we didn’t buy a place, we are only renting which gives me the sense of temporary that I need. Now, I can focus my energy on more good things coming to me in the future. In not being depressed, in no longer feeling suffocated, I can breathe and start believing in a better, more positive and optimistic tomorrow.

Last night, while we were packing up the kitchen, I came across a tiny bottle of liquor from Portugal. You must have brought it back for me when you and Mom took the Viking Cruise to Iberia. I don’t know why I never drank it. Maybe I was saving it for a special occasion. Well, moving seemed as perfect a reason as any to open it. So I did. I poured a glass and whispered a silent toast to you. It was good. I enjoyed it. Thank you.

This morning, we had to race against the weather. Thankfully, my spouse insisted on hiring movers or we never would have gotten here. The movers — three young guys — were fantastic. They were fast, efficient, and extremely personable. The lead guy amazed me. He took apart G3’s loft bed, the one for which we had to custom order the wood and assemble ourselves. We didn’t think it would ever come apart. But he did it without difficulty and then he reassembled it without directions as if he’d done it dozens of times before. The entire move took less than six hours. By the time they finished, the snow was coming down heavily. There was more than a coating on the ground.

Before we could even begin to unpack, we had to drive back to Bedminster to clean up the condo. They are doing the walk through tomorrow and we are closing on Tuesday — weather permitting, I guess. I had wanted to say goodbye to the neighbors we liked, neighbors who had been kind to us, but the weather forced us to flee before we could.

When we finally got back to Middlesex, our new neighborhood, it was well past five and the roads were getting slippery. Before we could settle down for the evening, we had to pick up some groceries so that we would have something to eat during the storm which is supposed to last all day tomorrow. The weather men are calling for up to twenty inches which has G3 very excited. You’ll be happy to know I canceled school for tomorrow. It’ll be his first day in the new place, with a backyard to build a snowman. If I made him do any reading, writing, or especially math, he’d never forgive me. After picking up food, we made one final stop at the liquor store. We can’t be snowed in without wine. But while we were in the store, I saw Gary’s Good Vodka. I’d never seen that brand — ever. It seemed a sign, if signs are a thing, because if you were ever going to send me any sort of sign that you were looking down and smiling, that you were happy for me, it would definitely come in the form of alcohol. 

The minute me we pulled into the driveway, happy to be home, our neighbor across the street shot out the door and came running over to us. She asked if we needed a shovel or salt for tomorrow. We have both but we thanked her and she told us to let us know if we needed anything. I thought that was kind of her.

Earlier today, a friend of mine who lives less than a mile away, dropped off a care package. My son spotted it the moment we pulled up to the house. In the box was homemade bean soup, bread, and eclairs. Her note said she wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood and figured that after a long day of moving, dinner would be the absolute last thing we’d want to think about. She was right. It was late when we finally sat down to eat, but the food was delicious. Much needed after a long cold day.

G3 is super excited to have his own room. Finally, there are enough rooms for me to keep my desk in an office. I no longer have to invade his space when I want to work. In preparation for the move, he bought a lava lamp with his own money. He also used his own money to buy a beanbag chair. We ordered it from Amazon, but it won’t arrive for another week. He can’t wait for it to get here. As soon as we finished our errands for the day, he started setting up his room. The lava lamp is cool. It lets off a soothing reddish glow. One of the first things he pulled out was his cd player, the one you bought him two Christmases ago. On his dresser are all the lego figures you and he did together. He was so happy to have his own room — which by the way he calls his man-cave — that he put himself to bed early. As soon as he finished eating, he said goodnight and disappeared into his room where he fell asleep listing to classical music.

I miss you!