Christmas is rapidly approaching but that hasn’t stopped us from continuing to check things off our list in prep for our move. It’s funny. Since we made this decision, it all felt like it was so far out. Like we had plenty of time. But it’s getting real now.
Today I booked our hotel in Los Angeles for our Spanish Consulate appointment in January. I figure this appointment is just like X-Factor or our personal equivalent of American Idol. We’re just going to hope we sing on key and no one hits the buzzer that says ‘No! You’re not good enough to live in Spain. Be gone with you!’ Pointing towards the door. I’m praying there is no Spanish Simon in this interview. Eeek!
I also booked our tickets back from Portland, too. In mid-January, we are making the trek back to my childhood home. My parents have lived there for 50 years and it’s filled with all the things from my growing up. Going home is…well…it’s going home. My room still looks the same as it did when it was my room. My pom poms, my sister’s pom poms, and some of my dolls are still in the closet. When that house is sold some day, I will feel a bit unmoored. Not that I like to admit that, but I will.
We are taking a U-Haul truck load of stuff to my parents – some of which they’ve graciously agreed to store for us. Things like our big sand jar from our family vacations (it won’t really travel well across and ocean), and the ashes from all our pets. And they’ve also agreed to take our cats, who barely survived a short plane ride from Seattle to Phoenix when we moved there. I can’t imagine putting them through 20 hours of travel to Valencia. They’d never recover.
My father has been wheel chair bound for the last 3 years, after a terrible fall that nearly killed him. My mom has been caring for him ever since. It’s been hard for her, to say the least, but she’s taken it on with her usual ‘I can do anything, I’m Candy Field’ attitude. But getting my 88 year old Dad up and down, and out of bed can be a challenge for her at 78.
With our move, we can’t take things that are mechanically powered. Except my Vitamix (yes, I found that it actually can handle the cycles of whatever power in the EU). So that leaves our king-sized adjustable bed without a home. And I know that my parents could really use it because it would allow my Dad to easily sit up in bed and elevate his feet, and get from the bed to his wheel chair.
So, like the Klampets on the Beverly Hillbillies, we are loading our bed and a flat screen into a truck and bringing it there – with boxes that I’ll stack in my old closet – and our cats. We will miss these two crazy little beasts but I know my parents will spoil them and most probably feed them individually with silver spoons. You think I’m kidding? Ha!
I’m two travel bookings away from our actual plane tickets to Valencia at the end of February. It seems a little surreal. I’m generally a person that when I say I will do something, you can pretty much count on me doing it. And while this is no different, that moment when we close the door for the final time it will not be without some tears for the memories we leave behind. But also excitement for what’s ahead. And I’ll feel better knowing those I care about sleep a little easier.
Viva Espana 