Now I’ve moved. Now I’ve more or less settled down, but some odds and ends need to be dealt with. Once dealt with they set off a chain reaction.
Like all my CD’s which are still in a banana box (probably the most used box when people need to move things around – they’re sturdy and supermarkets give them for free). The cabinet where they ”live” needs to be moved to its right place and attached to the wall. Once that’s done, the cabinet shelves now on the dining table can be put in their place, the cd’s and my little collection of hippos etc can be unpacked.
First packing up my home and now having more or less finished unpacking I’ve been thinking about what makes a home.
Packing, as soon as I had packed my pictures and paintings, the place I called home started feeling less like home. By the time the books were packed I was sort of in-between home and a place of dwelling. Then I packed the dishes, leaving one plate, one spoon, one fork and one glass for the last few days, and I felt like I was camping. Home was somewhere in the red boxes.
Unpacking (quickly, as I paid for the red boxes by the day), I first got my bedroom almost finished. Your own bed is always the best. The first night I had trouble catching sleep because I couldn’t remember where the bookshelves’ shelf holders were. Then I remembered they were with the keys and I had already seen that little plastic bag. Somewhere. Zzzz.
Although I was still zigzagging between boxes and black plastic bags for days I was beginning to feel more like home. My books seemed to have multiplied during the move. Figuring out how to hang my pictures and paintings will probably take the longest. Lighting fixtures are also lagging behind. I’ve decided to get rid of the previous owners’ lighting system in the living room, but will have to wait till January, I think. And as the ceilings here are higher I need new curtains.
Home was not in the walls I left behind although I lived there for 32 years. Home was not in the surroundings. Home is in the things I live with and the memories attached to them. The books, the paintings, the dishes, that plant that has been in the family for as long as I can remember (well, that plant’s great-great-great-etc-grandplantchild) the furniture from my childhood, and in the way I seem to furnish this new place to resemble what I left behind.
It took me 18 days before I went for a walk. I mean a walk walk, not a walk to the food store or to the post office. I went for a walk on the beach, exploring the surroundings. First snow had fallen and it was quite slippery. I saw one lady on the beach. Wrapped in a bathrob she was heading for a small building after her winter swim, not even hurrying her step. First snow has since then melted and it’s ”warm” for the time of the year. Almost 4C.
This feels like home now.
I'm Piisa and I will be sharing with you my thoughts on this and that, maybe even on whatever.