Today I’ll be continuing to move “stuff” from the townhouse I’ve been renting for the last year, into a real-life HOUSE. I always knew the last year was transitory, so I never became attached to this place.
Still, moving reminds me of one of the haiku I wrote for The Red Kimono. This haiku encapsulates Sachi’s feelings as she leaves her home for the last time before being relocated to an internment camp during World War II:
My house is empty
But memories will remain
Echoes in my heart.
I wrote this haiku based on my own memories of leaving my house in Tulsa when I moved to Fayetteville in 2003.
I lived in this house for twenty years. It was the house where I raised my children. It was a part of me. I remember packing to move and finding an infant diaper tucked deep inside my linen closet. I remember feeling like my heart was breaking as I walked through the echoing rooms for the last time.
Then, I lived at the farm for ten years. It, too, was filled with lots of memories, both happy and sad. When I packed my belongings after the divorce, I tried to focus on the future and not the past. But the memories had a hold of me, stubborn to let go. When I turned to say goodbye to Jubie and Bear in the backyard, again, I thought my heart would break.
So, as I prepare for what may likely be my last move, I am thrilled to get the move over with and begin to make new memories–to make this house a home.