The movers zip around like ants stockpiling for winter. They decimate the pile of boxes in the blink of an eye. That's the good news. The bad news is they can't (for liability reasons of course) move any container that isn't closed. Meaning the bags of clothes and framed posters are passed out the living room window to my mom to load in the back of the truck. My jeans are sticking to my ass and I mange to change into a clean t-shirt in the parking lot undetected.
I thought I would be flooded with memories of our first apartment but I'm not. even standing in the empty rooms brings absolutely nothing to mind. I can't remember where the TV went originally or how we got half of this shit in here to begin with. I just feel done and ready to go.Sitting on my moms couch I am nearly comatose. Her phone rings and it's Jason. Mine is somewhere not within reaching distance. He chipped a tooth at work. Instead of being on the road at 7am the next morning I waited for him at the dentists at 9 am, ready to decapitate a kitten for a sandwich. By 10, Jason is minus one tooth, we have painkillers and antibiotics in hand, and we finally head toward the interstate. Mom has gone ahead with the truck and Kirby. It is grey and windy, raining on and off all the way through Missouri. Oh, but the feeling of crossing the state line. Finally! 6 weeks in the making and I have left Illinois! I am instantly pumped.
We pull into Elk city about 10pm; Jason is nauseous from his antibiotics, I have to pee, Mom's knees hurt, and Kirby is being a little shit. Mom checks us in and we trudge in behind her only able to ask for the key. We pass out.
The second day is better. Oklahoma soil gets redder and redder as we head west to New Mexico. This is where the magic happens.
Scenery. Actual nature to look at.
Flagstaff is freezing and windy. I don't realize we're in the actual mountains until the morning and I see all the conifers. I don't know why it surprises me; it's probably the lack of sleep and elevation. Driving to Phoenix is an adventure in itself. It's down hill the entire way. We go from 7,000 feet above sea level to 1,000 feet in 2 hours. The temperature rises 30 degrees, the vegetation changes from trees to prickly pears to giant saguaro cacti. The demure shadows in the distance are suddenly in your face; red, massive rock formations.
The freeway is a mass of cars but we make it to 52nd St unscathed. Jason and I sign the lease, get the keys, and he gets to see our new home for the first time. Kirby happily sniffs the baseboards and doors. After a snack he cleans his beard on the freshly shampooed carpet.
The bed is made, the bathrooms have shower curtains and towels. We have the internet. The first morning on 52nd St is peaceful. I spend 20 minutes doing yoga on the patio, unfurling the mat that hasn't seen action in weeks. This is my 14th address since birth. So far it's my favorite.