One More Time To Kill The Pain...

Today, I'm packing up my fifth office in four years for the first time for the last time. A strange sensation, putting all the trappings of a previous reality into boxes and pulling them out a door I'm so used to coming into. It still doesn't quite feel like it's happening. It feels more like a chore. More like the thing to do. Karri's been amazing about packing up her trappings. She spent a whole afternoon sifting through old cassette tapes and cards, revisiting the memories and letting the feelings seep into her soul.
For some reason, and I don't think it's intentional, I'm having a difficult time opening up to the feelings behind this move. It feels like a move. Nothing more. And I'm fully aware of what I'm leaving, who I'm saying goodbye to, but I'm not grieving yet. Maybe it'll come later, once I've unpacked these trappings in a new place. Maybe it'll come when it stops feeling like a set of responsibilities and starts feeling like the new present. Maybe it'll just simmer for a while. Maybe it'll hit when we come back for the first time and realize that the people here have lived without us for a while. Or maybe I'm just not as nostalgic as I thought... nope.
So I'm packing up my fifth office. And my books are heavy. And I'm giving away my furniture that my grandma and I reupholstered together. It's tough going from a house to an apartment. And Mars needs some chairs. And I've got yogurt that I need to eat. Can't let good yogurt go to waste! And I'm thinking the coffee here was never that great, but always good enough. And I'm thinking that PowerPoint is a weird program. And I'm thinking that even before I worked here, I belonged here. And that's comforting. I don't need an office to be able to walk in the door, and I don't need to come to staff meeting for these people to be my family.
So I'm packing up my fifth office in four years for the first time for the last time. I don't know how I'm going to get these boxes into my car.