65 boxes. That’s the grand total. All of them in our small living room now. It felt so good to vaccuum out the corners of the empty closets. Such a feeling of cleansing and order and wholeness and . . . oh never mind. It’s just that messy closets sit there in the back of our minds, I think, and seeing one all clean and neat and free . . . it sort of cleans out the soul as well. I bet St. Teresa of Avila or Fray Luis de Leon would have written beautiful things about it, if they had had closets to clean out. But see, they probably never cluttered their souls with messy closets in the first place. Anyway.
Getting a bit harder to pull my thoughts together. Sorry.
Joseph is sad at night now, and needs me to rub his back until he falls asleep. Silas and I are snippy with each other. Too many dehumanizing details to wade through, like ordering internet service and worrying about income. Peter is serenely learning Japanese on-line (his newest obsession). And Igor, our turtle . . . well, he’s just sitting there. And sometimes banging his head against the glass.
Today at church we’ll be singing “The Lord Bless You and Keep You,” because we requested it for our last Sunday. We’ll be saying goodbye. And this evening we’ll be saying goodbye to a lot of our neighbors, at the last community meal before we go. And I’m saying goodbye to the trees outside our window. They’ve been good friends.
We’ll be leaving Portland in the rain, it seems. There’s supposed to be rain for the next few days. How typical. And we’ll be arriving in Fresno to temperatures over 100. Also typical. But a bit of a shock to go from rainy 60’s to burning 100’s overnight.
It seems as if there should be some ceremony for leaving a place and arriving at another place. Even if there were, though, the Langley family wouldn’t manage it. We don’t do well with formality and ceremony. We just sort of bumble along.
And maybe that’s okay. The true significance of a moment has to grow inside a person, anyway, like a seed.