Love in Piles

Those of you whom I have shared living spaces with know that I am a completely organized albeit slightly messy person. And let me make the distinction between messy and dirty--dirty I am not. Messy, yes: I am able to navigate a pile better than I am a neatly ordered arrangement. After living on my own in California for the past year in the most glorious studio I've ever set foot in I find myself this morning swooning over the space I find myself in---mental and physical.

Preparing to move from California to Massachusetts has been a mental process for me that started months ago. Writing to a new friend recently I remarked that I have entered a "self-preservation mode" in which my biggest fear is that I am not allowing the potentials that are still here to arrive--too caught up in my future self, plans, life, etc. on the east coast. This morning, however, I woke up with a feeling of newness. Instead of beginning to clean the mess I instead fell in love with it and this space all over again. Yes, I am messy--Yes perhaps I have WAY too much stuff--but it's my stuff and each book, trinket, item, and garment has a sentimental value--a memory attached to it that I will neither forget nor relinquish.

In just shy of 4 weeks I will have packed everything up and shipped it off across this big country to start afresh in a place familiar, yes, but hopefully with new experiences, people, and wonder. I am so grateful for the future I am able to imagine but moreover, for where I am now, Oakland, CA, my home, so much of my heart, and my lovely piles of things.

So what exactly is the purpose of this post, you may ask? This post is a selfish one--as are most confessional blog posts I suppose...simply a way for me to archive this morning--this memory. For although I'm a mess I like to think that there's at least a bit of romance in it.