Monday I leave for a few weeks to go sift through the shit that has been in storage on the southside of Chicago for over two years. This stuff is the only things out of a 3,800 square foot house that we decided to keep, two pods.
We had only planned to live here for a year, then move to southern California. According to everyone who knows and loves us (now), they knew we wouldn’t come back that quickly, but it has been a BIG surprise to me. Never would I have thought that I would feel so at home in the middle of the ocean, but this is home.
It feels final. There is something about having all my crap with me that makes it feel different, this is no longer an extended vacation, this is no longer a pinch myself situation, this is real.
I hear from people all the time “I came for a month 17 years ago”, this place is so magical for some, going back is impossible for many.
Basically, I am going to have all this crap delivered to my Momma’s house (how has she not killed me yet?), have it unloaded, sell almost all of it, and have the rest packed up and hauled to Miami to be shipped down by boat.
I have absolutely NO idea what the hell is in there. Toward the end of the process, I was so strung out that I have no idea what I decided to keep. When you are moving you turn into a lunatic, and when you start off a lunatic, you are downright psychotic.
There are a few things I am pretty sure I am not going to need. My 12 ft Christmas tree is one of them. Who do I think I am? The President? Okay, sometimes I do.
I’m looking forward to having my brother’s artwork, there is something about looking at it that makes me feel closer to him, and to me? That’s worth the 7 grand it is costing to have this shit sent down here. I would do anything to be closer to him for just one moment. Anything.
I’ll also have my kitchen gear, the last two years have felt like a camping expedition, and I have to give it to KMart for pulling me through, but it is just not the same as having the stuff you know and love, I mean, there isn’t a knife on this island worth a goddamn, or at least I haven’t found it yet. I will be cooking for anyone and everyone for a very long time just basking in the greatness of my crap.
We came here with 3 duffle bags and a suitcase.
But here is the coolest part. I’m staying for a while. It feels like a scary commitment, but when all is said and done, this is where I belong. For now at least.
I belong here because of nights like last night.
We went over to some friends house for a dinner party, these people have turned into “island family”, they're the type of people that are just real, they make you feel comfortable to be yourself. They made seven courses of the most delicious food I think I've ever had, we drank a shit ton of wine, we laughed, we cried, we drank some more.
I woke up with a head the size of the island itself, loving this place more than yesterday.
You come here for the beaches and stay for the people.