Reflections on moving

Published 5:46 am Thursday, November 28, 2013

Wrapping dishes carefully in paper towels. Emptying dresser drawers. Trying to figure out which cord goes with which electronic device (printer? camera? iPod?). Eating food already in the fridge and pantry instead of going to the store.

Carrying bag after bag, box after box, down to the car. Repeat.

I moved apartments recently. Just a few blocks away, but it was a process. Filling a weekend with walking up and down stairs, carrying heavy objects, cleaning like crazy and trying to create some semblance of order to it all doesnt exactly give you much downtime between the end of one work week and the beginning of the next. But I survived and am now the happy renter of a cute one-bedroom.

Its amazing to stop and look at all the stuff you accumulate over time. Remember when you looked in the closet and said, I have nothing to wear? When you move, it becomes, I have too much to wear. Same goes for the bookshelf, under the bed, even in the kitchen cupboard. My move allowed me to identify items that I barely use and donate them. Though initially it might be hard to part with something, donating can also feel freeing. Whether at Goodwill or a thrift shop, theyll find a better home now.

Its funny how moving affects so much. First there are the necessary lists of things to do, such as transferring your power bill and officially changing your address with the copious organizations that have it on file (magazine subscriptions, work, the bank). Other things change: the streets you drive and walk on the route you take to work, a friends house or your favorite restaurant. You might walk one block away from your old route and see something youd never noticed before a beautiful garden, a different view of the water, a new shop. Even your habits are affected. The coffeepot is now on the other side of the sink. The light switch isnt where you think it is.

As I carried bags, packed boxes in my car and took down wall decorations a few weeks ago, I paused to look around my slowly emptying apartment. Once the furniture was out (shoutout to those friends of mine who sacrificed two hours of their Saturday and their cars to help!) my old studio apartment seemed bigger. But stranger. Had I really lived there for more than a year?

It was the place I lived when I first came to Astoria. A good stepping stone from college life to a new job and a new town.

But, I guess Im no longer new in town.