I woke up with an inexplicable feeling of sadness, not about the move itself, but about how quickly time passes at this age. I’ve been in Seattle nearly 8 years, and in this apartment for about 3 years, and it’s gone by in a flash. I hope to live another 20 years, like my mother, passing away in my 90’s. Eight years looking forward is more than a third of that.
Mount Rainier wasn’t out, even though the day was sunny — too much haze. That’s OK. I have the view solidified in memory. I can close my eyes and see my daytime and night-time view at any moment.
A good part of what keeps me anchored is having my space ordered the way I want it, with familiar things all around. It makes me wonder what homeless people do to stay anchored, when their belongings are constantly being rousted and disrupted by the police or others who try to steal what little they have.
Moving is exhausting, even though I didn’t do much. I had a crew of three absolutely great guys, who wrapped and packed and carried all day long.
Once the space was empty, I was more than ready to go, because it didn’t feel like mine any more.