It’s not the trucks and crates
That make me crazy
But having my life stacked up
Like pictures waiting to be hung
And dismantled lamps unplugged

It’s losing and leaving behind
Our old Labrador lost to cancer
Books and memories too big to fit
Unpacking my grandmother’s dish– broken
I smile, instead of cry
Knowing she would understand
She moved a lot too

It’s feeling lost over and over
Where is the store?
The gas station?
The nearest hospital?
The library?
And wondering who will be my friend
Figuring out how to call home

It’s slow surrender
To time, to change, to new
Saying yes when I want to say no
Answering the door and the phone
Until I find a new normal
Until I can call here…home.