Moving Memories

I ran across this picture of Maya today, while purging my garage of old papers and things. It was in a heavy, but beautiful frame that Carolyn gave me years ago. I'm keeping that frame, though I should be chucked in the head with it for even thinking it. Goodness knows where I'll put it. Maybe in Carolyn's duffel bag.

She's a riot, Carolyn. A few days ago, she called and told me she was bringing nothing but stretch pants and teeshirts, in a carry-on duffel bag. Considering we'll spend the next three to four days cooped up in a car with the cat, cross-country, I'd say that's wise. Plus, she'll have room for the heavy-ass frame she gave me that I can't bring myself to part with...

Because there are certain things worth lugging around. Like Daddy's metal foot locker from Korea. And memories of a bird who touched my life for a while. Maya was a pink, leathery ball when I met her. And a beautiful, spoiled, willful little shit when she died. With an astonishing vocabulary. I wonder if she would have mellowed out over the years, had the coyote not intervened? I'm pretty sure she'd have been singing songs.

At 52, you'd think I would hit that laid-back, mellow phase. I wonder if  I could and still make a living when I get back home? Until I can join Jimmy Buffet in a warmer-watered paradise cove. Writing novels. Kicking back, catching fish and singing songs.

There are other things worth taking. 20 years of my journals, a third of my books. Pictures, even the big, bulky, framed ones. One beautiful photograph of Gurumayi. Mama's jewelry. Mine. Half my clothes. Coats. For sure my coats. It's much colder in Georgia. Brrr...

I'm getting a taste of it today. It rained continuously from 1:30 in the morning till around 3 in the afternoon.  At times hard. High in the 50's with a cold west wind. I'm bringing my thermals. Socks. My mm-mmm warm Koolaburras. My ancient, but faithful sub-zero, leather coat from Jackson Hole. My raincoats. I'll be fine.

Eight more days. I think I actually might be ready when it's time. The gargantuan task is on the way to being done. Two more moving sales. More craigslist ads, sales. Pack my office. Ship stuff off. Drop off the clothes I'm not taking.

At a time like this, I am grateful that I've moved so many times over the last 11 years that I've not accumulated much. Yet, I still have LOTS.

This weekend I met that man again. The one from 36 years ago. He flew to California to see me. I still like him. A lot.

And, I'm excited about coming home. To him. To Georgia. To my family. To my friends. To Christmas with Amanda and the boys, before they leave to be with Josh in Korea.

So, here's to memories. The old ones, who truly never go away. And to the new ones. The ones we make each and every day, for the rest of our ever-loving lives.