|You never recognize that you're walking into a Pyrrhic victory
||[Nov. 2nd, 2008|09:59 am]
There ought to be a law against setting an alarm clock for 6am on Saturdays. Nevertheless, yesterday morning we groaned our way out of bed at that obscene-for-the-weekend hour and drove in darkness to the other side of town to help catvalente and justbeast load the moving truck that would take them away from us to their new life adventure in Maine.
As often is the case when very busy people with interesting lives and belongings attempt to move, there was a good deal of stuff in their house that defied the confines of boxes - and a shortage of boxes for other stuff. Still, there was the ultimate box: a large empty truck into which stuff would be put. And put stuff into it we did; everything from the piano to the decorative spinning wheel, bagging and wrapping that which couldn't be boxed. Being the bossy control freak that I am, I set myself up inside the truck, along with khiron1416, and we snugged, wedged, and nestled the objects of their lives into the most secure load we could manage.
It's one of those jobs where you get really pumped about doing it right, doing it well, finishing it. And then, with a shout of triumph, you recall that your efforts have all been to accomplish something you really hate to have happen at all: you've efficiently prepared people you love to leave you behind.
Not that your efforts had an effect on the outcome. They were going, without a doubt. They would have gotten it all in their without you. But it's hollow to feel that thrill of accomplishment and then remember what motivated it.
The two of them will be arriving at their new home sometime today. I wish them all happiness. But I'm sorry they are gone.