There has been a shift. Our daily routines are now moving amidst the winds of change. And normal is very soon going to become an entirely different landscape for us.
Everyday, I’m making lists. No longer trusting my memory with all that needs doing today, next week, next month. And I’m now gripped by a vehement desire to clear my slate, finding myself finally settling things that have haunted my to-do lists for eons. I’m burrowing into the depths of my pantry, using random remnants to cook obscure meals ready to stash away in the freezer. Keenly aware that time will soon be very precious, and leisurely prepared dinners will become a luxury.
Many of you will know the feeling, I’m sure.
Night after night, I’m having trouble sleeping. And of course, everyone says this is understandable. To be expected, even. My dreams swarm with a jumble of apprehension and anticipation, often waking me well before I’m done with sleep. Time slows in these small hours of the morning. My restless thoughts dissolving into the blackness around me as I visualise all that will soon be changing. Trying to imagine our new normal.
You might have been here before. Maybe more than once.
I’m earnestly cleaning my house. Scrubbing at surfaces that most likely haven’t been touched in years, slowly uncovering a pristine home from under blankets of dust and abandoned cobwebs. I’m sorting. I’m organising. I’m packing. And although it’s plainly marked on our calendar, I’m systematically counting down the weeks. I’m counting down the days that now seem to be slipping through my fingers like water. Counting down a new beginning.
I have an overwhelming sense of deja vu. I seem to know this stress.
And then I realise that although I’ve never attempted an interstate move with three children, it’s actually my children who have prepared me for this. I’m struck by the uncanny similarities. Because, in these winds of change, our impending move is something like another pregnancy!