Another New Beginning?
Or the beginning of the end? Thoughts on moving for the 25th, and possibly last, time.
My footsteps echo hollow throughout the now-vacant house. The moving company loaded the furniture, appliances, and boxes onto a truck yesterday.
Today, I’m here merely to let the cleaners in. For two months, dog-sitting, house-hunting, and travel meant cleaning was the lowest priority. The tub and kitchen sink need a good scrub. Taking out the furniture revealed warrens of dust bunnies. The cleaners will earn their money.
The echoing emptiness reflects how I feel, I realize. I’ve moved a lot, and as a sentimental person, I usually feel some emotional attachment to the homes I’ve lived in for any length of time. Not this one. We’ve lived in this shitty PMQ (an old acronym for military housing) for eight years. It’s the longest I’ve lived anywhere, ever. And I can’t wait to leave.
On a practical level, I am grateful — we had a roof over our heads, at a great rent, and in a stunning location (Royal Roads University campus, Victoria, BC). There’s a castle here, literally in our ‘backyard’! It was our COVID refuge, and I will miss the sense of community forged during lockdown. It felt like a safe, welcoming place during an uncertain time, and we have the best neighbours. I will miss the…