on moving (again)

We are leaving soon. I know that now. It is not written anywhere, but by now I can read the signs. It wont happen just now. Many months will pass before we even know where. And then, only then, perhaps not even then, time will transform itself, and with it, so will our lives.

The time change I can predict and describe. The transformation of our lives, I can only wait to witness as a by stander.

First, time will be slow and heavy. Every evening I will welcome my husband to a tired home. One that has lived a full day and is ready to drink some warm milk and go to bed. He will be tired as well. His embrace will be heavy with the weight of the wait. The children will welcome him with excitement, knowing that with him comes the night, and rest, and only then will we get another full day to fill. In the silence of the dark we might not speak of it, but it will be there. We will scrutinize time for any signs as it lazily and distractedly waits before giving anything away.

Some months from now it may choose to give us something. The sign may be clear of muffled, and then we will patiently and quietly wait some more. I will try to plan, without really knowing what to plan for. We will continue trying to believe in the permanence of our home, fully knowing we are only playing a part, like characters from a play.

And then one day, somewhere in the not so distant horizon, time will pull off this lazy cloak and reveal our fate. Then this 80 year old maid will turn into a frenzied child. The world will revolve around us at high speed. It will be impatient, spoiled and demanding. So we will run, and run and run.

Soon after all-hell will break loose. How the children react to this, now no longer babies, will very much determine what this part will look like. All I know is that there will be a rough period. A rough ride.

But once it is done, once the fairground has closed its doors and dimmed its lights, I will find my old friend again, the time I’ve learned to cherish and love. The one that likes to sit for tea once the children have left for school, the one that stays up with me late into the night, making time for me to read a book or write to a dear old friend.

But for the time being, time and I are playing it cool. Playing chess if you like; she makes a move, I make a move. She plays in the garden with the children while I keep an eye on her. Sometimes we sit down for coffee. But we both know this will change. Its just a matter of time.