I am going to move soon. Again, for about the 30th time. Honestly. If you include moving Transatlantic for 3 months every summer and returning to a new house, a new apartment, maybe a new city usually a new school, every year for 16 years.
I am happy about this move though. It feels like the most important one to me.
Friends, colleagues and neighbors shake their heads in disbelief that I should want to move from my own rented four storey house with fours bedrooms and 3 baths, a terrace, a garage and a garden into a 4.25 room apartment, into a hideous building next to the highway on the 10th floor.
But I knew, I knew the minute I walked into that apartment that it was going to save me. Save me from gloom and accusations, the hardships of unemployment and endless responsibilities on my shoulders. It would lead me into peace, voluntary family solitude and light. I am ready, we are ready as a family to make a new start.
We are sorting and tossing and donating. At times with ease and at others with excruciation over each object with love, a story, a memory. For me, my son or my husband.
It makes me feel good and light. This reducing to the quintessence of the gatherings of my life since June 1977 when I arrived in Germany with 2 suitcases and my father’s expired French passport with my picture as his daughter in it and my own US one. And, as of 1989, of my life with my husband and since 1997 with our son.
I am throwing off the hardships, the depressions and the struggles, the unhappiness and the strenuous moments, the useless stuff bought in frustration, the superfluous or the unwanted are being discarded. Some of it is sold, some goes to the dump and the precious is given to the darling ladies at Caritas in Hoechst near where we live to brighten the lives of others less fortunate than we are.
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