I’ve been doing a death cleanse. This is how it works: I start with one closet or a shelf and begin to pick over the stuff to determine what I’m donating, throwing out, or giving away to friends. Following the unofficial rules of Döstädning, I’m deciding now while alive what I want others to have and enjoy as I’ve already had time with them and obviously I cannot take it with me.
Literally and figuratively.
As I might be moving. For now I’m calling it a sojourn. Or at least until there is a vaccine. I’ll be traveling out to Eugene, OR to be by my daughter who is having a baby in late Dec/early Jan. We are all very happy and excited—but going along with that is a tandem feeling of nostalgia, forlornness to possibly saying goodbye.
The logistics are overwhelming as I’ve lived in Chicago, in particular with one group of people, for close to forty years, since graduating from college. That’s a lot of history and relationships. There are questions of what to take, what to leave behind, what do I, if the time comes to that, come back for. All this while trying to navigate the emotions.
I’m looking forward to the next step, then the next one, and the one after that. My sojourn will involve 1) family, 2) writing, 3) riding my bike (of course), and so much more that I can’t even count.
Until then I’m cleansing and purging, making piles and hoping my heart can hold everything that is needed in order to do this.