Not long to go now. We’re packing up our house getting ready to stay with our parents before our farewell trip to New Zealand next week. TV, washing machine and fridge, all gone. All of the accoutrement’s of stability traded in for a backpack each and a duffel bag. This feels different to simply moving to another house, packing up our things, only to set them up again in a short while. The finality is actually quite refreshing. Now the task of squeezing our mountain of travel clothes, books and gadgets into a couple of back packs and a duffel awaits, crossing our fingers and toes that it all fits!
Limbo, what an uneasy place to be. Neither here nor there. We’re floating in that space where everyday routine and ritual is becoming a memory right before our eyes.
I don’t think it is the new that frightens us, but rather the place between the old and the new. The place of anticipation. The place of uncertainty. The place of real and imagined fears, with no rails to grasp onto to break your fall. Stability fades away and you are left standing there, anticipating the new. Then before too long we will embrace it, stamp our mark on it as routine, and we will have a new way of being as a travelling family.
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