Now that I’m packing, it’s making a dent on my psyche and I’ve discovered that I’m having a lot of lasts at the moment. The last walk along the Thames to Tescos. The last of the year’s ducklings. The last of the first ripening chestnuts. The last patch of white and grey feathers where some pigeon met a violent end. The last scrap of freedom. The last of my autonomy.
I don’t like lasts. I prefer firsts. Unfortunately, I can’t think of any firsts lurking in my immediate future. I can’t think of anything to come that I’ve not done before. The scurrying home with my tail between my legs. The grovelling to the bank manager. The credit card bills I’m almost too scared to open. The change of address letters. The packing. The throwing out. The fear.
Somewhere, there has to be a first. A nice first. A first I’ll always remember and be proud of. A first that will turn my life around. A first that I can smile about. A first I can look back on with warm fuzzy feelings.
Please?
Suw,
There is a first in everything. In your case this move is the first step to a new chapter in your life which will be filled with lots of challenges and opportunities. Sometimes it is hard to see the sun shinning behind the clouds, but it is there.
True – packing is bummer.
Sam
Thanks Sam. I know you're right, but sometimes it's just difficult to see as far as tomorrow.
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