Dust

There's dust everywhere. Everything I move as I pack yields dust. My nose is running and I'm coughing and sneezing. Sick of the dust.

I want clean, I want new, I want to unpack and set up my things in new ways, in our new place. I want the boxes moved so I clean here too. My life is changing, things are happening, its time to clean the dust left behind, the 2 years of living here, what's been collecting under couches and behind bookshelves.

I've got the good stuff, its not dust. I've got memories, and images of what the apartment was like, how I lived in it, the good times spent it, everything it was for me and how it helped carry me through the last two years. I won't vacuum those up. That's why I'm ready, why I'm yearning to clean. Its the other stuff, the crumbs, the unused spaces, that can be swept up.

I'll want to clean the new place too, make sure as we unpack its our dust that will start to collect. To be swept again when we move on, which we will, but it will be together and we'll be different, but it will be good. So good. And I won't sneeze.