Blurbs from the life of Portland bead artist, Esther Liberman
October 4, 2010
A Moving Experience
When we were young, Gary and I moved a lot. For various reasons, we moved into a new apartment every year or two, and our parents & siblings were always there to help us. Together we all moved endless numbers of boxes, picture frames and pieces of hand-me-down furniture. With time, we all got pretty good at the whole process. And our mothers were always there with practical advice and several rolls of contact shelving paper.
At some point, we discovered the joys of hiring a professional mover, so it's been a long time since we practiced the ritual. But now, once again, the practice of family-assisted moving is revived, with our son and his girlfriend moving from Eugene up to Portland. But this time, we are the parents!! What a strange feeling. The same endless cartons, the same smell of an empty new apartment with hardwood floors, the same feeling of hope and excitement, even the same baseball play-offs on TV in the background, but now we're the old guys with the practical advice. (The funny thing is that I have no contact paper to offer, because I never learned how to do it, since Sonia always did it for me.)
My body aches from all the lifting and carrying. My mind is happy for the new life they will be living in this most exciting part of Portland. And my heart has suddenly realized how wonderful it was to have our parents and siblings helping us with all those moves, what hard work it was, and how much of an emotional investment they were all making in us.
I think I'll go call my Mom now, just as soon as I wipe away this little tear from my eye.