People Making Pasta in My Artless Kitchen

Artless kitchen because we are MOVING and everything is in boxes (almost).  

Pasta because Chris' brother is here making Spaetzle.  Like macaroni and cheese, only better. And anything with cheese always makes me happy.

And I am warning you,

I am FEELING LOST. 

I seem to have forgotten, until today, just how sad moving makes me.  I walk around despairing the loss of views through windows, the squeaks of doors and floorboards, the feeling of a door handle in the dark, the shape of the ceiling fan's shadows.  I feel heartbroken and mournful.  Like leaving a lover, like death, like change.

I know it's like passing from maiden to mother, from mother to crone.  I know it's like leaving a job and clearing your desk and cutting your hair.  I know it's the jacket that got left in the nightclub, the tattoo drawn but never inked.

Loss. Emptiness.  Abandon. 

So, I'll hold my babies close, look out this window for the last time, and feel the ground beneath my feet. 

Change and challenge.  Prevail.

Because you are here already, you might as well keep reading: 

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