Moving Day

Last weekend is best summarized as: Furniture. Saturday morning to Dave's to pick up Jake and furniture, including the Pink Sofa Sleeper, which we bought for the house we re-built in San Marcos in the early 80's. I already had furniture in the trailer from my house... a gray comfy chair for Jake, brown chaise and a desk for Sara. We added the Pink Couch, a few bookshelves, boxes of dishes and stuff.

Then, Jake and I headed up to Portland to offload Sara's things (and toss one of the bookshelves, which disintegrated on the ride up). Then to Tacoma to finish packing Jake's room, vacuum, dust, etc. Then finally to Seattle. We got to his new place around 9:30, spent an hour unloading the furniture from the trailer, discovered that the Pink Couch wouldn't fit down the narrow stairs (back in the trailer) and that the 7 foot book case was about 4 inches too tall for the apartment.

Sunday, we finished unloading the boxes, bought some book cases and a coffee table from Valu Village and a sofa from Goodwill, cleaning supplies and food from Fred Meyers. Had a great lunch at an all-you-can-eat Indian buffet. And then I left the boy to settle in.

Back to Portland (the 7 foot book case fits in Sara's apartment), spent the night and left Monday (one more stop: deliver the Pink Couch to her friend's house in Tualatin).

One more trip this weekend to Portland with some more furniture for the girl, meet the roommate's family, and home for work Monday.

Moving Day

“Thanks for the help moving, ma,”

a young man once said to me.

Past and present and future –––

love’s prism merged the three.

A two-year-old’s philosophy

about birth and choice and love

“How long would it have been, ma,

‘til we found each other’s love?”

First day of school, not yet five,

I let go of his eager hand

And stopped a block away;

“Let me go, ma, like we planned.”

The years merged in a blur

of inner growth and outward growing

a solo air trip, boyscout, martial art

high school, college, my pride showing.

“Reminds me of a Calvin and Hobbes,”

or the Talmud or a hitch hiker’s guide ~

philosophies from deeper sources.

The road less traveled, tried.

Not yet 21, journeys to other lands,

the young man ventured alone.

Studying others and fitting in…

Content by himself and on his own.

The big brother, protective,

guarding near and watching over

the little girl, a glowing light

with moths circling around her.

New life, new home, unpacked,

furniture and hopes, books and dreams.

Room to fill with memories

as he spreads his wings.

The details of his future

are now hidden from my eyes

But the timbre of his soul

rings clearly, without disguise.

“Thanks for the help moving, ma,"

a young man once said to me.

Past and present and future ---

love’s warmth envelopes me.