i helped my parents move over the weekend. bit of an odd start to the long weekend, packing up what’s left sitting in the house you grew up in and realizing that you’re walking through the door for the very last time. when everything was hauled out of the moving van, all the boxes and furniture were emptied in to the new place I felt like I was visiting someone else’s house. the next morning I woke up to find my dad sitting in the sun on his new deck enjoying the quiet neighbourhood. he said he felt like he was on vacation now. I thought that was weird since I couldn’t shake that feeling of walking through a vacation home. i’ve moved back and forth across the country a few times and always felt that my parents not moving was something stable to look to. now there are new roads to take to get there, new doors to open, new neighbours to say hello to. the irony here is that I’m in the process of slowly moving my stuff to Aimée’s place in Sylvan. I moved all my scotch over already, so you know that it’s for serious.

every other time I’ve moved, I’ve looked at all the stuff I have and wondered how I amassed so much for one person. maybe it’s that this time i’m bringing things over bit by bit, but it just seems like there isn’t that much here now. maybe it’s that I’m not keeping stuff like my couch, dresser or bed. I get a moving day at work, I should figure that out…

the rest of the weekend was spent in backyards around fires, in boats in the sun (and getting caught in storms) and swatting at bugs. oh, and having allergies go fucking mental. super fun.

if it’s nice out this week, I’ll probably take out some more bush and small trees.