Since I am absolutely the world’s worst packer and because I am still on a lifting restriction of no more than 5 pounds, all of my worldly possessions are smashed into 700 or more little tiny boxes, which I can safely carry.
To entertain myself during this dreaded task, I wrote some fairly bad words on the sides of those boxes to more creatively describe what was inside them.
I’m back in Indiana because I got too tired of not being able to see my only child when I wanted to put my arms around him and try my best to hug his soul.
I’m back in Indiana because financially I absolutely could not get back on my feet after breast cancer. That meant I could no longer afford to make frequent trips north.
And I was close to picking my own spot under the beach bridge because I continued to try to be there and here, too.
For many long nights last year during my recovery, I rocked on my back porch and thought about the difference between alone and lonely and the shallowness of an “I love you” on the phone as opposed to saying it in person, with a kiss at the end because it’s the perfect punctuation.
Also, my amazing son and his adorable wife are talking about starting a family.
And well, just let me tell you right now that my mushy heart is absolutely incapable of being 1,200 miles away from a grandbaby that I rarely get to see.
If I didn’t move back, I knew that I would invest in a super-hero cape or hitch hike, ride a skateboard … whatever was necessary ... to get to Indiana so I could be part of that little’s soul life.
Since those travel options would have been huge disasters, the only answer was to pack the little tiny boxes and get going.
So here I am.
Initially, I thought I might need to take up residence in the moving truck.
But thank goodness for dear friends with giving hearts.
While I look and pray for employment, all the tiny boxes will be in a storage unit. I won’t have my own address for a while.
By the way, every single thing that is happening to me is also every single thing I worked so hard to prevent.
However, I have the warped sense of humor to survive it.
After all that I’ve been through in the last 15 months, I’ll be looking at this situation as a true way for me to feed my gypsy spirit. That can’t be all bad, you know.
And the best part of all, is to finally be able to see the people who make my heart smile … and to add that kiss as punctuation to the “I love you.”