Packing it in

Lots of change. I don't like change. I may have mentioned that.

My brother called. He doesn't do that as a rule. So what was up? Well, it's time for my aunt to relocate. She's been in her own house for oh, 45 years or more, but it's too big and too expensive for her now. So there's an apartment in her future. But now we have to determine which goods get junked and which get ... sold? She's taking some of her things. Mind you, she doesn't really know they're her things anymore. My brother, being male, isn't interested in sorting through the detrius of her life. I'm not really that interested either, except that I can't just junk someone's things. It's my sentimental side. Throwing out one's own stuff signifies cleaning up. Throwing out someone else's stuff signifies nullifying an existence.

Cousins of mine just moved last month. They'd been in their house since '77. Oh, and apparently my father has sold his house too. Funny, last night when I talked to him, and asked, "how's the house sale going," he mumbled something noncomittal. My brother told me. He's doing the legal work. Thanks, Dad. Where are you going to go, Dad? If you're planning on turning up here, let me know, because you'll be sleeping in a tent in the backyard otherwise.

The lawyer also told me about the new development going up on the lot that was the location of our childhood home. He's had the developers send him a package - it's going to be a retirement development, and sibling thinks Dad should move there! Dad moved away from there! Why the hell would he go back??

I not only don't get it, obviously; I don't know if I want to get it. Things are happening around me and I'm trying not to let it distract me. Just walking through the minefield in a straight line.