Reflections.

Moving is a curious process of folding and unfolding.

When you're at the old place, things become missing and mysteriously a mountain of boxes grows in your garage. Your feeling of "home" becomes diminished as all the familiar objects you've collected become inaccessible.

Suddenly all the boxes go onto a truck and the place you've been living in becomes the empty shell it was when you first saw it.

When you're at the new place, you have those hotel-like moments of "Where am I?" but then you turn a corner and see your nightstand or your toaster. You realize that the other empty shell you're in now can be made into your home.

Each box unpacked is like remembering, and you use the contents to create a new space that you can call all your own.

I had forgotten that following the awful chore of packing is the unexpected joy of unpacking.