The realtors tell me your house has to be dismantled to the point that anyone could see themselves living there. All the paintings off the walls. So the packing begins.
It is hard enough to pack when you are excited about your new house or your new life but when you are packing because your life has changed in a way you did not want or expect, all it is, is heart break. Memory after memory packed away in boxes. You don’t know when you will open them again. You don’t know what your life will look like when you do. You have to trust that this is the right thing to do. That everything will be okay.
I’m packing my studio now. Boxes of beads, paints, doll heads, glues and tools all labeled and packed. What supplies should I keep out? What art will I do while I plan my new life?
Pictures are coming out of frames so the frames can be sold along with many other treasures in a garage sale that will send things away for a dollar or two, hopefully, someone else will treasure them.
Bulletin boards stripped of their reminders of trips, phone numbers and tiny parts of a bigger life.
It’s all so sad.