I’ve written the following article for an Australian removal company’s website, I was their guestblogger:

Saying goodbye and moving on, that’s my motto of these days. I can’t say that the whole process is an easy one. Moving house means that every drawer, crate, room, cupboard needs to be scrutanised: what can stay? What needs to go?

My husband and I have been going through our house like that for the last three weeks. We’re moving mid June, it’s now the 30th of March. We have some leeway! And that is neccesary. When dealing with loved but forgotten items it takes time to recollect the memory, hold the item in your hand, go through feelings and then the big decision is there: with or without us.

IMG_8466I’ve been an artist for over 20 years, I’ve thrown away my art (my children were furious, but they too could not have my art in their houses), it felt rather Zen… seeing my prints and sketches in the big paper skip in the recycle centre situated in the next village. I had a short drive to reflect even more and no, there was not a sliver of doubt, regret, quite remarkably. I must say that I’d photographed the ones I liked best. As long as my computer will behave, I have some good artistic visuals with memories attached for the forseeable future. I must admit that I liked that.

Now the painter is in. The interior is being beautified for the next owners of this house. Every room has a stack of boxes already filled. I guess we’re ready to move on. Saying goodbye to the good community of Glastonbury/Avalon will proof to be more difficult. Geography can be as pleasing as one can get it, but without people it’s a meager thing. Friends tear up, we, I tear up, in the friendship department it’s a heavy thing, saying goodbye. It’s do-able that we know that on the other side of the Big Water (we’re moving from Great Britain to The Netherlands) a host of family and friends are waiting for us, welcoming us.

We bring our ‘Hairy Child’ with us, our Cat, Edna, will drive with us from one country to the other. We have bought a special crate that fits snugly in the car. We bought one that is suited for a middle sized dog. Edna will have room to play, sleep, use the litter tray (OMG, can we live with the smell on the so-many-hours car journey?) and will, undoubtedly, yell her little vocal cords sore. She does that in a car. We know.

We’re getting towards Easter, friends will stay with us, food cooked, drinks drunk. For a few days everything will appear to be normal. And then we start again on the Tuesday after Easter: packing, searching, soul-searching, holding on or letting go…

With love,

Karin Schluter Lonegren.