this will be a little pitiful right up to the last part

I have made the six hour drive up to what used to be home twice in the past month, and this time was officially the last. R and I drove up through pouring rain Thursday evening. And we spent all day (ALL DAY) Friday packing the hell out of that big ramblin' house that used to be ours. And loading the hell into a gigantor moving truck. Fifteen hours of stress and heavy lifting will wear a body out. Especially as I forgot to communicate to my sister that the M&M dispenser mom had in the living room? THAT WAS WHAT WAS KEEPING ME GOING and she packed it away and it was buried under another layer of boxes in the bottom of the truck before I realized it was missing. We had help. Yeah, we had amazing, perfectly timed help. Could not have been better people at better moments--it was exactly who we needed down to the minute. BUT WE ALL WORKED REALLY HARD. And then slept on the floor, because the beds were long since lashed in and buried. Woke early again. So much more to be done. It was twenty six years worth right there. And the dust it left behind. Mid-morning the cat and I left in my dad's old mail car. She cried the entire time and I'm not sure if it was commiseration or just general drippiness, but I did, too. For half a state, tears were leaking out of the corners of my eyes. I hate that I can be such a sap. I also love it. There was a huge crew waiting to help out at my parents' new house. So many friendly faces and strong arms. We made short work of the unloading, and soon twenty six years worth was all inside the new walls. I hid in the master bathroom with the cat while some of the bigger stuff moved on through. I think we'd bonded over our shared hysteria. I read an article about America's first malls once and I remember that the first few to be built included specially designed calm rooms. They called them 'silence rooms for nerve-tired shoppers.' Yes. I was nerve-tired. My brother spilled a paper cup full of beef stew down the front of him. The dog licked it off. And then he and I drove the ten minutes into town and I had 45 minutes to shower and make it over to meet with the orchestra conductor to go over tricky sections in tonight's concert. I only played in the second half, so you know what I did? When the concert began I made my way up to the very top of the balcony and I stretched out on my back on the pew, and I closed my eyes and counted the muscles in me that were sore and the ones that weren't, and I listened to the chamber orchestra and some jazz and some choral pieces and was in time, was barely in time, getting back downstairs to warm up and check pitch during the intermission. The music was swimming in front of my eyes as I sat on stage. I was surprised when it began and surprised when it ended. It was complete, for the first time. Parents put down the boxes long enough to be there. I realized part of my new role is hitch. I grabbed one end of my parents and pulled it up to community members I think they should know and I jammed them together. I thought all along: as soon as I down this one glass of reception punch, I will walk back home. I will speedwalk back home. And I will run my head under water and I will put a fresh pillowcase on, and I will collapse and sleep for twelve hours or until my muscles unwind, whichever comes first. I didn't. Well, I did speedwalk home. You know how suddenly something like a gong can ring in your head? Inspiration? Clarity of mission? I realized I actually had something besides sleeping that I needed to be doing--something I'd not even considered doing til then. I drove downtown and as I walked up to the building, I heard rhythm and bass and something very solid, and when I walked in and toward the stage, I saw it. Took in the full picture first--the band. Then narrowed my vision down to a single point--the guy with the tenor sax in his hands. Forget just stopping in for a song or two. Once I caught sight and sound of him (I guess I mean 'them,' but not really), I was going to stay. And once he caught sight of me, I had won. Like, a prize. Am a winner. Ding. Several times I shifted like I was about to head out, but I seem to have found a very powerful attractive force and I can't think of anything I didn't like about staying for two and a half hours and feeling all my stiffness and tired nerves start to dance. Especially when he'd shoot me a look that was the from-stage equivalent of the kiss he gave me when they took a break and when I finally at the end, after the end, said goodnight. So I had said even before the orchestra concert that I was worn entirely out, and I think I was. Am. But I deserve absolutely no pity for the fact that I'm still awake. I think I worked for three days straight to earn the right to abandon absolutely everything else aside from that pure, delicious funk. Mmmhmm.