Yes, it’s true, move-in day was Wednesday, and I’ve already slept four nights in my new home. I might be prejudiced, but I think it’s a sweet little house–and everyone who comes by to see it seems to agree. I’ve discovered that I love to drink early-morning tea in my living room, with sunlight streaming through the huge, east-facing window. Most of the boxes are unpacked, but a whole lot of stuff still needs to be put away, and the to-do list remains daunting.
It’s great to be here, though I can’t deny that it was an arduous, sometimes stressful, process (read previous posts here). For me, moving is never fun. Moving confronts me with the amount of stuff in my life. I’m forced to ask myself how much of it I really need, and how much is just a burden. At the very least, moving gives me a chance to edit–to keep what remains useful or beautiful, and to pass on to someone else the rest. No doubt I could have shed more, but seven well-stuffed boxes did find their way to Goodwill.
I’ve moved a great many times in my madcap life, from state to state and even country to country, but in some ways this was the most momentous. Buying, I’m discovering, gets you committed to a house and a neighborhood in a way that, for me, renting never did. I’ve met a number of my neighbors, who are a typical Vallejo mix of white, Black, Latino and Asian, but who seem friendly, and as far as I know, to get along. It has the feel of an intimate, old-fashioned neighborhood. Houses are set close to narrow streets, people walk the sidewalks, and my two gay neighbors next door have been chatty and welcoming.
Something else I’ve discovered is that it takes a village to find, buy, upgrade and move into a house. I’m grateful to my mom, brother Steve, Jane and Lyle, and Roger and Michael, who helped with the downpayment, and to Judy and Kathy who helped me find a house and to finance it, and to James, Frank, Mary, Michael and Yargen who helped get my house ready, or helped with the move. And I’m grateful to Bob, Ric and Richard and so many other friends and family members who offered encouragement and advice, and to many of you, readers of this blog, who’ve also offered your good wishes. Those of you whom I know personally, I hope to invite to a house warming sometime down the road. And to those who’ve followed this story online, I promise to post the “after” pictures when I’m satisfied that my little house is ready for it’s close-up. Thanks to you all.
Photos: Top–early morning of the final day at my old apartment, a 14-foot U Haul truck is loaded for the nine-block journey. Above: my nearly empty living room looks forlorn.