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Outlook from the new house

Outlook from the new house

It’s so strange, packing once again. This disconnected feeling of being homeless, rootless, which is so alien and uncomfortable. I long for one place to call home, knowing I can put down my roots and stay there forever.

I look back and try to see if I’ve left a footprint, an imprint here; would anyone see me or miss me when I’ve left? If I’m honest I would have to say – No! The only person who knows I’m here, to whom my presence here makes any difference is going with me – my husband, Ray.  Where would I be without him?

No question really. I would be alone in my unit in Burleigh. Would my life be settled? Well, would I be in one place. Putting down roots? I guess I might be settled, but even then it’s questionable.  It definitely didn’t turn out quite the way I imagined – I needed to see the ocean and on the Gold Coast that is well-nigh impossible, unless you are wealthy and have a separate office elsewhere. A home office is somewhat laughable.

So many places we looked at which seemed so tiny! Are we looking at this the wrong way? I know that bigger is not better – these huge mansions don’t make you happy, but they do make putting your accumulated bits and pieces on display much easier.

The smallest bookcases

The smallest bookcases

Is there a place for books in our developing and changing world? They take up so much room, time to pack and unpack. Yet they hold so many memories of the people who gave them to me. Gifts from the heart. How does one arbitrarily dispose of a heart given gift? Yes, it is an object, I know this, but they evoke more memories being able to see the name of the person who gave them to me inscribed inside the cover than a copy on a Kindle can. Not that I would now be without my Kindle!

More irreplaceable memories

More irreplaceable memories

Yet the fact remains, I would not want to be without my books.  Nor any of my ornaments, just so many trinkets to some and yet to me they are more heart given gifts amassed over the years. So very many memories evoked. I don’t ask anyone to understand how I feel about them, but simply accept that it is real for me. They are priceless and irreplaceable heirlooms and always will be.

These would be MY trinkets and baubles!

These would be MY trinkets and baubles!

My heart clenches, my tummy roils, and there is a lump in my throat. I know I cannot leave behind these ‘things’ which evoke so much emotion. I’m not ready to even think about it let alone to do it, if I ever will be. I know my own nature and I know how I feel about my attachment to ‘things’. My gratitude for these priceless and irreplaceable mementos is unable to be calculated.  When the people are gone these are the tangible ‘things’ left for me.

I’m told the era of libraries, of books is going if not already gone. Print media will die as e zines and e books take over, and I am saddened at this sign of progress. In time will all our priceless mementos be holographic images of what once we could see and hold in our hands, cherish in our hearts?

Simple mementos

Simple mementos

Is this progress what we really want or is it what we are having foisted onto us – for the sake of what or whom?

I’d really love to know.

The packing boxes are stridently calling and I must carefully wrap these treasures for their next journey.

Many blessings dear reader,  may your treasures remain safe.

Happy Easter wishes.

Susan xx

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