Today we left the biggest house we’ve ever lived in to begin our move back into a tiny apartment. I fear that the downsizing will come as quite a shock, even though we’ve lived there before and should know what we’re getting ourselves into. But after spending two weeks quarantined in a hotel room, perhaps our two room flat with its big views and access to hills and beaches only minutes away won’t feel so small after all.
The moving boxes left yesterday. All eight of them. I have no idea where their contents will go once we see them three or four months from now. Fortunately, that’s a problem for another day.
During the past few days as we’ve been squeezing items into boxes and duffle bags, we’ve also been trying to squeeze in time with the people we love. But there is never enough of it. It is such a waste to have to spend so much time dealing with stuff that there is not enough left over for people. This is another one of those repeating patterns in my life, one that I’d like to break.