The piano movers came today. In 30 minutes they had it all packed up, in the truck and on its way. I am sitting here still feeling a little stunned and sad. I had tried to prepare myself mentally, but it's a loss and I'm feeling it. Damn, it's harder than I thought it would be.
I had them take it out through the French doors in the dining room to avoid those difficult stairs. I did a lot of prep work to make the move easy for the guys. I moved all the dining room furniture out, moved all the living room furniture to the fireplace side, outside I trimmed some trees that were obstructing the path, and I shoveled some snow and put down ice melt. My son helped me move stepping stones on the slope at the side of the house where my landscaper had put them. They would only trip up the movers. In fact, they were frozen into the mulch, so by moving them, the resulting large divots made good footholds.
This move marks the end of an era for me. Once my house was filled with people, and noise, and music, and life. Now, it's just me and I can't fill it up. Yesterday, someone I was watching on TV said something to this effect, "The end of something is just the beginning of something else." Many ways of saying that, and it sounds a little trite. But today, it does feel like a turning point--a moment in time of no going back now.
It is time to find a new place to live and turn this house over to a new family who will fill up all its corners and bring life to it again.
