On the road again...

By Annmarie Miles


As I write this, I am surrounded by boxes. My whole life is being sorted out and anything that isn’t coming with us is being divided into typical “moving house” categories.

…to throw out.

…to go to the charity shop.

…to ‘re-gift’.

…would re-gift if I could remember who I got it from and could be sure they wouldn’t get it back.

As you read this, I’m sure I’ll still be surrounded by boxes; maybe one less because of the seven items I managed to assign to one of the above categories.  

I lived in my parents’ house until I was 27.  Since meeting Mr. Feint Saint, 16 years ago (I’ll wait while you count that one up on your fingers…), I have packed and moved ten times. The house I’m moving to now is only a temporary stop until we get somewhere else, which may possibly be a longer temporary stop.

I must say that I have got the moving thing down to a fine art; as fine as art can be when you are totally disorganised. As soon as we made the decision, we started sorting and packing. I made lists. I made labels for boxes, mostly for storage. But, of course, there is an “I-can’t-live-without-this” category. I packed a load of stuff to go to a car boot sale, which was duly brought back to me. So, I’ve added a “car boot sale when I get there” category. With two weeks to go, we have a lot done.

It’s also time for me to finally take all my stuff from the attic in my parent’s house. That is much harder than packing. It truly is the end of an era, in a house where I lived for so long. To be honest, I feel in every way homeless. I’ve been on the move for some time now and it is with a heavy sigh (and an even heavier waffle iron) that I pack up my life again.

There is, however, a peace and confidence within me that moving back across the water is the right thing to do. There’s an element of, “I wish I didn’t have to do this,” alongside a “this is the path, walk in it,” type of assurance.

You never know what God is going to ask you to do next, or where He will ask you to go. In the Creator scheme of things, every stop is a temporary one until the final destination. My advice to all fellow travellers is… pack light!

Oh…  and don’t buy a waffle iron unless you REALLY need one! 
 

Ed Note:  We are delighted that a move to Wales does not mean the end of our Feint Saint column.  Annmarie has agreed to continue writing for VOX from “over the water”… our very first foreign correspondent no less! 

 

Annmarie Miles is originally from Tallaght, now living in Kilcullen, Co. Kildare. She is married to Richard from Wales. She spends her days writing, teaching and talking. Her first collection of short stories, The Long & The Short of It, is available in all formats at www.emuink.ie (Fiction Section) and also in Footprints in
Dun Laoghaire.