There’s a map on the TV on the seatback in front of me. We’re over Houston. JetBlue 101 is westbound for Los Angeles.
Back in Florida my folks are in a house of boxes.
It was truly amazing to watch my sister, Trudi, and my daughter, Stefanie, deconstruct my parents condo piece-by-piece.
They were relentless with rolls of bubble wrap and tape. Individual pieces disappeared into boxes where they were made to fit like Tetris pieces.
Do you want it? Do you need it? Will it fit in the smaller space they’ll soon have.
My brother-in-law, Jeff and I were the teamsters. We ran errands, drove and carried. Additionally, he looked in on his father who lives in the neighborhood.
It was quickly obvious, my parents seldom throw stuff away. They acquire. They store.
Stef’s apartment will have two new accent pieces–an original Polaroid camera and 8mm movie projector. My sister shipped a box of stuff to her business. Most stuff was not that lucky.
Thankfully Wednesday is trash day! We filled the communal dumpster then moved on to one in the adjacent building. This morning we got to start over.
My father had an estimate from the moving company to ship 20 boxes. That number fell Tuesday evening. The real number will be closer to 30–maybe more.
Moving is a nightmare of interlocking deadlines. My folks needed to pass a TB test to qualify for their chosen assisted living facility. Who gives the test? Finding the right lab was as much a chore as taking it.
They’ll stay in Florida a few more weeks before flying to Milwaukee. A new apartment awaits along with my sister and her family. Four generations together for the first time.
Boxes will be unpacked. New furniture will be acquired.
Most people don’t leave Florida for Wisconsin, but this move is a necessity. My parents need more peace of mind. We all need more peace of mind.
Today is my father’s 88th birthday. It won’t soon be forgotten.