I sat there all those months while the house was for sale, wondering how in the world when the time came to leave I would ever manage to fit my life in my pocket. But it is DONE. Every nail in every wall, every box, every scrap of trash… DONE. It took until midnight working in the dark with the electricity off.
I said I wouldn’t look back, but you know I walked through the dark, empty rooms of my beloved house and felt all the energy of all of the Love that lived there, all the friends who laughed there. Literally, from all over the world. As I locked the gate for the last time, I reached through and touched the old brass knob one more time and said a blessing for the new owners. Oh. The Love Shack was such a lovely, lovely dream of a house. Every brick and every wall, I loved, spackled, smoothed, and shined. I am grateful I got to live in such beauty. Tomorrow at closing, I will take with me a box of Christine’s childhood pics I found. The last thing.
You know I am a sentimental old fool who finds magic in the simplest things. My most treasured memory of that house is the Scorpio birthday party Chris and I had years ago when a bazillion Butch-Femme.com people from all over flew in. It was a ridiculously huge slumber party, except no one slept. We talked until dawn. Thinker and Sonia gave me windchimes as tall as I am, and I had my yard guy hang them high high high in the tree over the hot tub. One by one over the years, the enormous chimes loosened and fell. It was a joke that I would sit in my hot tub trying to relax and look up at those chimes, just knowing one was gonna break away and stab me like a javelin from Gawd. For the longest time, there were three chimes remaining, twinkling together as a delicate symphony and sometimes a banging cacophony with our prairie breezes. Me, Chris, and Meesha. Then I noticed when Chris left, there were only two. And as I was moving and selling my memories and feeling so fucking alone these past weeks, only one lone chime. Aint it like that in the end? The same note over and over as I dismantled my life. Today, a man buying some leftover furniture from me said “Dang, what’s that sound? Church bells?” I said “No, its my windchimes.” But when we looked out the window, there were none. Just frayed strings hanging high in the tree. The sound we heard was the last chime clanging on cobblestones.
I’ve been living in ashes all year. I am so grateful that part of the transition is over. And no way can I say I was alone! I’m grateful to all my sweet friends, lovers, and neighbors who helped me and Meesha move. Our new place is much, much simpler, but still full of Love. I have so much to be thankful for.
(The pic is of my adopted emo Meesha, looking out at the yard today as we were packing away leftovers from the yard sale from hell,)