end scene

Sunday morning I did a quick batch of laundry. The tablecloth and napkins from my supper club gathering the night before. I brought them back to the dining room and folded them into a neat pile when I realized I could very well just store them in a box instead of the drawer. Because… I won’t need them in my apartment again. A wee pang sprouted and prompted storage in the built-in as opposed to the multiple boxes distributed around the room.

I am very much looking forward to Life in Worcester Redux. It is time. Of that I am absolutely certain. I have outgrown my current reality and it is rather worn at the edges. But… well, it is only natural, I suppose, to have some grief as this life pulls the curtain closed.

I think of all the entrances and exits made into this scene… and in some ways disconnecting from this apartment is a sort of resolution to absences that left a painful mark. Of the many happy memories (a lot of which involved those cloth napkins and the tablecloth). I completed my first novel in this apartment. My sister wasn’t married when I moved in. A lot of babies weren’t even an idea… the passage of time is… well, we all know what it is.

It isn’t a lengthy reflection. But that’s what it is, a pause to think of all that has flashed by and fades into the shadows of the darkened stage.