It feels odd to fit your life into 26 feet of a truck.
I hadn't seen any of it for about two years as it was in various places of storage.
But there it was. Professional mover Jamal and my friend Josh loaded the vast beast in less than an hour. In my mind, I had built a story that loading my stuff would be akin to supplying East Germany after the Wall was built.
Naw. Fifty five minutes.
I aided little because my problem with gout and my knees and legs has left me with little mobility. I looked more than a little like Fred Sanford.
And yet there it was. This moment I thought would be monumentally problematic became much less than that.
Now I had a bouncy truck, half filled, to return 700 miles.
I thought about taking off for Wisconsin, then and there, at five minutes to 11 a.m. But I did want to see my Bloomington beer-drinking buddies Sunday and so it will be.
While I had made the moving of stuff to be a monumental challenge in my mind, it turned out to be just a job, particularly when taken in small bites. Like the old Hindu phrase: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
I still have half the challenge remaining, returning to Hayward, Wisconsin, Monday and Tuesday.
And I will have virtually no money to my name after the final leg of the trip but that won't be the first time.
I will have a home and be home.
Peace and home unto all of you my brothers and sisters.
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