Moving Out and Moving On

As Derrick and I draw nearer to our marriage (three months to go!), I have found myself to be far more reflective amidst all the pragmatism required for the wedding and life-together details that must be sorted out. The practical, detaily things that must be approached have begun to morph, each expanding and grabbing hold of more meaning than I originally allowed them. The process has been somewhat overwhelming, but I also revel in the joy, the contemplation, and the anticipation that come with all of these reflections. 

As a gift of sorts to Derrick before our marriage, I offered to move out of my home and then work together to move into our home. Now, for those unaware, "my home" and "our home" happen to be the same house. It makes the thought of moving out far more foreign and bizarre. At first, even Derrick suggested that it was simply too much work and not necessary. He liked where the furniture was and how the kitchen was organized. For the last almost two years, he has been able to make sense of the space as we share it on a part-time basis. But the problem with this arrangement is and really always has been that there is a "his" space and a "hers" space, divided by 90 miles and many weekdays apart. And in three months' time, that division will be gone. The miles, the days, the separate spaces simply will no longer exist. 

Early on in recognizing that this transition would indeed take place (I mean, that is one of the reasons we're getting married after all), I began to realize that in my mind, my home would always be just that - mine. Not ours. It would be my place with a sudden influx of a bunch of other stuff and clothes and shoes and gear that I'd have to find a corner or a box for. I even caught myself making comments to that effect. And I realized that this would not be a one-and-done matter where problems would simply solve themselves as we settled into "my home." No, it would fester. It would forever be a point of contention as long as we stayed in "my home."

The only solution was to move out, to break the bonds of comfort I have built within the sturdy walls, the familiar arrangements. But beginning the process of moving out has done something far greater than creating a space for the both of us. As I open closets whose sole purposes have been to hide away former pieces of my life, to stockpile my history...as I touch and handle parts of my life that have been stored away, boxed up with a fair amount of permanence, I begin to see my stuff in a different light. 

Prom dresses and internship uniforms. A thousand t-shirts from nearly every campus block party, program, and trip. Elementary school doodles and graduation tassels. Love notes and journals. These are the pieces that make up my history, that are placeholders for the memories created with every experience. Although some of these act as relics, archeological artifacts that will elicit the giggles of our future children and grandchildren someday, much of the stuff I had once treasured and moved with me from place to place suddenly seemed far less significant. The physical pieces weren't what kept my history together. 

So together, Derrick and I opened countless boxes, chuckled at old photographs, sorted through what I thought were the things that crafted my history, and boldly proclaimed much of it trash. And in those moments, there was no sorrow, no lament of the loss of all of my stuff. It was more like liberation. A moving on of sorts. A clearing away of unnecessary things to make room for all that is to come. 

These days, "my house" is beginning to feel a little more like "a house" as we strip away the many things that I once was sure were my treasures. As the closets and the cabinets empty one by one, it really does look like someone is moving out. And someone is. Moving out and moving on. From "my home" to "our home." A transformation that could not have happened any other way, but that symbolizes so much more than just two spaces coming together. Two lives are coming together, ready to face whatever is to come. Together.