Sometimes you have a day planned that includes running errands, getting a ton of packing and releasing done, seeing friends, having an open house for neighbors to say goodbye- to share the spices, the olive oil, the lightbulbs that will not be needed and then to get back to packing after they all leave.
And sometimes you wake up heavy with emotion and need to dance and cry and eat a lentil salad while doing slow hip circles with your bare feet on the grass as bees buzz around you. And sometimes the people who you didn't think needed anything are so excited about a muffin tin, a bundt pan, planters, paintbrushes and a $500,000,000 bill from Zimbabwe and a plant they gave you six years ago that is thriving that you now give back as theirs has died.
Sometimes, a tree falls and the power goes out so no one shows up to your open house except the perfect 5 people who love the sumi ink set from china, your seashells, your plants, your black indian ink, your woolen yarn and knitting needles, the couch that has supported you from hell and back, your books, your crockpot, and your curtains.
And sometimes, someone who you've met a few times but don't really know that well who just moved to Seattle shows up with a bottle of pinot noir just when you need it and you light candles and talk for hours about the return to our bodies, the divine feminine, mother nature, sex, dancing, desires, Scotland, Seattle restaurants and to-dos, and you find yourself with a kindred spirit talking long into the continued darkness.
And sometimes, after you've hugged this soul sister goodbye, you head to your storage unit and grab your camping stove and propane and cook one of the final dinners in your apartment wearing a long black vintage slip and a...headlamp. Grateful for the Trader Joe's Punjab Choley Indian Fare, brown rice from the night before, and some spinach. And you eat this dinner on said couch, surrounded by candles, sipping pinot noir and feeling delighted, calm, grateful, humbled, giggly even at the perfection and grace in it all and after a day of feeling a bit removed from oneself, feeling more at home than ever and not even noticing the lights came back on long ago.