Packing up

I'm often sentimental on this blog. In truth, I'm often sentimental in real life too. I've talked before about leaving my college town, stopping my regular visits to Harrisonburg, even my current situation: preparing to move out of my current house. But now, I've actually started packing.

One week from today, Ben and I will be in our new place together. This week, I dug out some bags and started packing up my clothes.

I've always loved packing, for both trips and big moves. In the action of packing, there is often a common theme of excitement — excitement to go somewhere new, excitement to see what's around the corner, excitement to unpack and start anew somewhere.

And it gives me an outlet for my sentimentality. Each time I have to pack up my things for a move, I'm brought face-to-face with items I've had for years but may have forgotten about. I'll find them under my bed, or in decorated boxes on my bookshelf, or in crates in my closet — countless mementos of past versions of myself. These are trinkets I bought in high school, disposable camera film pictures I took in college, started-then-abandoned notebooks and more.

Packing gives me the opportunity every once and a while to stop and reflect, both on what used to hold significance in my life, and how far I've come from those times.

But one of the most exciting things about packing to me is actually what's on the other side of it: knowing when and where I'm going to unpack everything. Now every time I look at my dresser or some art hanging on the wall, I find myself thinking about the floor-plan in our new place and where we'll put things. Moving brings with it a built-in reset. I still have all the same possessions, but it's up to Ben and I where they'll go, how he want things to look, what we'll do with them in our new place.

Obviously I'll miss where I am now — I love our house, our roommate and her two feisty and fluffy cats — but with every item I pack, I find myself getting more and more excited for what's to come this time next week.