As a result, I've been put to work.
I've destroyed cupboards, inhaled decades of dust, filled skip bins, made innumerable trips the half block to the new residence and scrounged various items from my past.
AND...
I can see few permutations that would result in me ever reversing out of the driveway at my Mum and Dad's old home again. Never again will i curse that cars that make the departure a risky venture.
And this makes me kinda sad.
Actually, the whole process reminded me of leaving my original church.
As the days tick down, you do things for the final time and slowly watch as much of what was uniquely yours departs with you.
The part of the process that I'm dreading most is when the new people move in. What will they do to my old room? Will they renovate? Will they rebuild anew? Could i handle them tearing the house i grew up in down?
I dunno, but I'm pretty sure that will be a sad day as well...
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