Written on Friday and not finished, but I will post anyway. We currently have a combination of fevers, colds, eye infections, chesty coughs, runny noses and about 1 foot of snow. Not the best conditions for moving. Where we will be moving to currently has a blizzard. The boss of removal men suggested they take huskies...
Anyone who has moved house and relocated, not just moved within a town or area but further afield, will be aware of the limbo that accompanies almost everything. Although intellectually you are aware that sometime next week all will change, life on a daily basis is still continuing: laundry still needs doing, the dog still needs walking, Angus still needs taking to school, and so on. Yet, when planning things, discussing events that will be happening over the next few weeks and so on, there is the repetition of, "But of course, this doesn't affect you," or reminding myself that this is not something I need to concern myself with as I will be living elsewhere. In effect, you start being disconnected and excluded from your current life.
We haven't started packing yet although we have done some re-arranging and a bit of rationalising, but on the whole our house looks little different from normal. To be honest, if Ken resigned his new job next week, we would carry on as before and nothing would have changed significantly. And yet, next week all will change: We will still be the same family but in a different place, needing to recreate routines, new places to go, to shop, to walk the dog, and so on in a new house with new patterns of living.
Anyone who has moved house and relocated, not just moved within a town or area but further afield, will be aware of the limbo that accompanies almost everything. Although intellectually you are aware that sometime next week all will change, life on a daily basis is still continuing: laundry still needs doing, the dog still needs walking, Angus still needs taking to school, and so on. Yet, when planning things, discussing events that will be happening over the next few weeks and so on, there is the repetition of, "But of course, this doesn't affect you," or reminding myself that this is not something I need to concern myself with as I will be living elsewhere. In effect, you start being disconnected and excluded from your current life.
We haven't started packing yet although we have done some re-arranging and a bit of rationalising, but on the whole our house looks little different from normal. To be honest, if Ken resigned his new job next week, we would carry on as before and nothing would have changed significantly. And yet, next week all will change: We will still be the same family but in a different place, needing to recreate routines, new places to go, to shop, to walk the dog, and so on in a new house with new patterns of living.
About the only thing making this seam even vaguely real is the need to say goodbye. I know in my head that there are some people whom I have grown to admire, enjoy the company of, respect, even love, who I will possibly never see again. Grasping the emotional reality of that is elusive, but practically I can at least reflect on the good times we have had together, thank them for being a part of my life and hope that at some stage our lives will cross again. Will some tenacity and good planning with some that will happen, but with many, I know it won't.
Last night I attended my last Mountain Rescue Team training session. Being a part of a MRT is a strange beast - some people assume things about your mountaineering ability that is complete myth (although you may actually aspire to it!), others assume that you are just a rather melodramatic rambler. The reality is that you are neither - you are a keen hillwalker with time and the inclination to help others. The adrenaline you get on a call out, opportunity to play (rarely) with helicopters, and the satisfaction you get from knowing or at least hoping, that you have made a positive impact on some stranger's life, are all plusses, although sometimes elusive. The team are a great bunch of people all connected by the hillwalking helpful approach. Consequently they are usually a sociable bunch, mostly friendly and accompanied by the usual mix of internal politics and personality clashes that you get with any cross-section of society. But I do love hanging out with them on a Thursday evening! I have thoroughly enjoyed at least 95% of my time with the team and I will miss them. Even though I have seen few outside of an MR activity, I will still miss them and can certainly say that I am grateful for having had their input in my life.
The not so positive good bye was at the vet's yesterday. Angus's rabbit Snow White developed a tooth abscess a few weeks ago and despite the vet's and Mum's (Snow White lives at my Mum's house) best attempts, by yesterday it had spread to her jaw. The kindest thing was to let her go. Angus and I went to the vets and we held her and said goodbye, thanking her for the fun we had and the joy that she had brought to our lives. Later Angus and I buried her in Mum's garden. It was a sad time for him and he cried a bit but in typical child fashion, then started talking about getting another rabbit when we move to the house we will be borrowing.
Hopefully more of the goodbyes will be more like the first and not so traumatic.
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