55613
I am packing, and packing, and dragging, and pushing, unscrewing and pounding. I am ripping, and folding, and taping, and stacking. I am selling on ebay, creating mountains of trash, taking daily trips to the salvation army and bringing pieces of large furniture to the curb.
I am tired.
Right now, I am sitting in a brown puffy chair at Starbucks. This chair that I have sat in so many times before. This chair that I will be leaving soon.
Bye chair.
When I was about six, we had a powder blue Cadillac. My mom and I were in the front yard. She was cleaning out the cars. I don’t remember cleaning, but I do remember walking around with the black plastic tube of the vacuum cleaner hose attachment with a linty, fuzzy brush on the end.
My mom told me that we were selling the car. I remember holding the vacuum with my right hand and leaning against the side of the car. I was looking at my reflection, while petting the top of the rear view mirror like a cat’s head saying things like, “Well car, it’s been nice knowing you. Don’t be scared because the people you are going to are going to be really nice and will take good care of you. I’ll miss you. You’ve been a very good car”.
In the middle of my teary goodbye, my mom yelled from the other end of the driveway. “What are you doing?” I told her that I was saying goodbye to the car. She yelled back, “Not that car, the other car”. I took my hand off the mirror, “oh”. I walked down the driveway to the green Osmobile, with the vacuum clanking noisily behind me. Pausing somberly, I put my hand on the top of the rear view mirror, and started my farewell speech all over again.
I thought I would be more nostalgic than I am about selling my house. Don’t get me wrong, I have my moments, but overall, it feels very cathartic. Except for the audio tapes. The tapes were a little rough.
In the garage, I had three milk crates of cassettes that I have been lugging around from place to place since the age of 18. I’m turning 32 on Thursday. I went through them and kept only a few memorable mix tapes and a shoe box full of an audio journal that I was keeping with a hand held tape recorder when I was 22.
I thought I would be a good citizen and take my treasured cassettes to the salvation army. I was lugging one of the crates off the back of the truck and the salvation army guy said, in a rude and annoyed voice, “what’s that?”. He came over, picked up a tape and dropped it distastefully back into the bin and said, “We got enough of those. We don’t need no more”. I was annoyed but said, “okay” nicely enough, and shoved the container back into the bed of the truck. I picked up a bag full of clothes and started back towards the donation bin. I was half way to the bin with my back to him when he yelled, “HEY!”. His voice was loud and annoyed. A chill of adrenaline went up my spine and I crazily thought that this guy might attack me. I was turning around while he was finishing his statement of, “I said we didn’t need none of that”. I put my hands up palms facing out with the plastic bag hooked around one thumb. “It’s clothes, it’s not tapes, it’s clothes.” He softened and said, “okay”, and turned to do something else.
That was two days ago. The three milk crates full of tapes are still in the back of my truck. There have been two rainstorms and a tornado warning since then. I know I have to throw them away. I know it. I will….I will throw them away…..tomorrow.
Tags: