The curtains came down yesterday in the house I currently live in, but which I now, refer to as my old house. Tomorrow the photographer comes, after which, I am officially but a caretaker.
And this is a true thing, that the house I currently live in is my old house. I'm not in my new house yet. And so the process of transition continues to move purposefully forward, and occasionally backwards, catching me by surprise. I live here and yet I don't. Last week furniture was removed from the old house, but the curtains remained, leaving the house feeling somewhat unbalanced, the comforts of material wealth at odds with the increasing minimalist sparseness.
The heavy planters which had previously flanked my garage doors were also moved, and they have found a new home here in the entryway to the new house. In fact they may be slightly large for the space, although that is not particularly evident in this photo. Seeing them here I am reminded of my first visit to the this house, before I knew I would buy it, or perhaps some part of me knew, when I said to myself something along the lines of "my planters will look good on this porch".
But I digress.
Yesterday the curtains came down and the old house assumed a state of minimalist balance. I too felt balanced and settled. This was in contrast to my feelings over the weekend, when I had felt more at odds with my space. My sanctuary had been invaded. Worse, I had been the perpetrator of the crime. I felt aimless and occasionally teary-eyed, not due to regret really, more likely due to some sense of being partially uprooted, neither here nor there. I'm sure it was mostly that I was over-tired, and although my efficient, intellectual side was happy ticking off boxes, I had not allowed enough time for my emotions to catch up. Today, with both furniture and curtains gone, it seems the undoing is complete and a sense of balance has returned -- my pieces but in a more minimalist setting.
This is something else that surprised me, the importance of my own sense of balance in the space. Today, as I look around the old house, the same house that made me teary with loss on Saturday, I can say, quite honestly, that this was never my house. I made it something nice, and now it is time to let it go.
These camellias are blooming at the new house. The fire columns have been temporarily been relocated onto this patio, although I'm not convinced this will be their final position. For now they are safe and out of the way until after the process of moving is complete. I've brought a table over as well, and a couple of chairs, so I can sit here on a sunny afternoon and enjoy the exuberance of blossoms in this space that is rapidly becoming my new sanctuary,
