In With the New...

Moving always provides the chance for a fresh start. By the time you have unpacked three suitcases and have been living out of them for the past two weeks, you wonder why exactly you need the rest of the four boxes that are still in the garage and begin to assess what is really necessary to hold onto.
Such is the same for ridding yourself of old memories affixed to the heart of past dwelling places. The beauty of relocating is that you no longer have to run by that patch of concrete that housed the etched names of you and your ex-lover, or stare at that corner of the pool where you and your supposed soulmate laid your feelings on the line over a jug of cheap chablis.
As I wrapped up the last of the dishes and sanitized every inch of space, the romantic scenes vanished one by one with the help of a little clorox clean up and some paper towels, which were immediately trashed and left behind.
My new house comes equipped with a vintage history of sorts, but it is for me to fill in the historic blanks. It's a strange transition at times, especially when you keep reaching for the toilet paper dispenser in the wrong location or dumping spaghettios leftovers down the drain that is lacking a disposal, but like every new relationship, you have to get used to to the quirks that make it unique. All I know is that the original hardwoods creak from age, and as I enter each empty room, a blank canvas just waits to be littered with renovations and future memories.