Paradoxically Yours...

A Moving Experience

('moving day' 18.2.2017)

"Dunleven... that's IT!"

"Oh boy. You're right about that. Could not handle another moving day. Geez... after how many?" and Kanute answered himself, "Four-bloody-teen! You're not wrong. I'm done leavin' too."

"No, no... uhrr yes, yes... " I wasn't making a great deal of sense, but after the weeks of sorting and painful discards, packing and cleaning - and finally saying goodbye to what had been a traumatic and important part of our lives, my exhaustion dictated much confusion. And yet, this one thing was sure.

"I am sick to death of moving. The only way I plan to leave this corner of the world is in a long, wooden box - BUT...," and I paused, "I said Dunleven," and I spelled it out so he could know the difference. "That's what I want to call our farm. What do you think?"

Kanute chuckled. "Sounds real Scottish, like your ancestry. Make anyone think it's maybe another Dundee or Dunedin sort of place." He wagged his head as a broad smile lit up his face. "That's cute. Yep... I really like that," and he rolled it around his tongue a few times.

We stood quietly then, arms entwined, deeply inhaling the beloved smells of animals and hay and pastures; ears adjusting to the silence broken only by hundreds of birds in the many trees alongside the old farmhouse, settling for the night. Above us only sky... a huge dome of millions of stars, slowly and magically appearing as the last faint glow of the sun dissolved behind the horizon. Exactly the kind of aloneness we had learned to love in another State of Australia, far, far away. Never lonely... no. This was the kind of farm aloneness that was beyond compare, for us. We preferred to think of it as space and freedom and our personal piece of paradise.

The sound of a heavy vehicle approaching along the highway some distance from the house disturbed the perfect peace of Nature surrounding us, but it wouldn't take long for us to accustom ourselves to these occasional intrusive interruptions. Luckily, there was no need for noisy gear changing or braking along this straight and flat stretch of road, and so the unwelcome sound built slowly and melted away equally slowly, and finally we rarely heard them. But not this time.

This one was braking, gear changing, the whole lot; and turning into our driveway; blinding us with its huge, high beam headlights; and giving a cheerful blast on the airhorn when the driver caught us in his sights. (Uhrr... cheerful for him, that was - appalling for us!) It was our huge removalist van - not meant to be arriving until the next day. Meant to be taking an overnight stay at home before embarking on the long haul from the city.

We looked despairingly at each other. Just one quiet night to ourselves, that's all we'd wanted.

"It seems we haven't quite 'done leavin' ... yet!" And we both sighed heavily.

© 2017 Christine Larsen

**Earlier comments:

Sounds like Dunleven was worth the short term hassle. Nicely done.
A finely told tale, Christine. You've shown the huge contrast between the peace and the looming chaos. Love the Dunleven monicker. You paint a wonderful destination at the end of your move! Great writing!