"where are you moving to?" he asked me, casually peering through the arranged piles of our two lives - the remaining cook wear and few dining items strewn atop a crate in the corner, evidence of my hand. across the room, picture frames and cd's stacked neatly in ivan's alphabetical or sized rows. the unsold camping gear surprisingly still a standing part of the display (it's western washington, you’d think that would have sold first).
"we're leaving to volunteer and travel abroad." i repeated the refrain i had sung for two days to tens of ivan's neighbors and to the strangers who found the notice for the combined moving sale off our internet ad or the nailed up cardboard at intersections up and down his street.
"ecuador!" one offered. then "europe!" another: "india!!!" one by one, they spilled their stories out onto his living room display of crystal, artwork and electronic equipment – some of which we thought twice about selling, although certain it would be useless to us in south america or east africa. they wished us well, offered advice, all smiling widely at their own colorful memories.
the retired soldier turned his eyes quickly toward me: "when i retired from the Marines i wanted to join the peace corps...but then i found a job i liked, so i'm here now. but i'm still thinking about it......" so the conversation began. we both lost interest in the spoons for sale.
after almost a day and a half of meeting well-traveled strangers, the retired soldier's response should not have surprised me. but the thought of a marine in the peace corps made me listen attentively, thinking about the turns that a life can take.
.........
if you have never sold everything you own, try it once. i can't give you advice on how to arrange the thing - for that you can ask ivan, he won us "most organized garage sale of the year" award in the earlybird shoppers’ estimate (i thought i heard one person clap from the other room). my part was just hauling small odds and ends that filled my tiny (or cozy, i prefer the term “cozy”) puget sound studio apartment over to his place and then following his lead for hours on end, walking around his living room, jotting down arbitrary signs: $2, $5, $20 on little post it notes.
but i do recommend the experience. few things in my life have been as bizarre as helping strangers pick up my comforter and pillows and curtains and laundry basket and blender and salad bowls and carry them out the door, down the porch steps, stuff them into a car, and drive away waving and wishing me luck. and as each item disappeared, i felt a little bit of space free up in my mind - space no longer filled with concerns over the item i had just let go of, but space now free to intake new experiences, form new thoughts – space i think that i will need for the road ahead of us. of course, i’m not quite sure i’m now using that space so wisely - just hours after the last person had left and our door had closed on our little moving sale, i myself began to use my newfound free mind to form brilliant thoughts like: “now i have no things; what am i going to cook with?” i shared this with ivan. turns out he was thinking the same thing: “what ARE we going to cook with? maybe we should have kept those casserole dishes huh?"
...not as easy as i thought it would be, closing down a life.
