Guiltily canceling dinner plans with someone we haven’t seen in a couple of years (yet we live fifteen minutes away – but now that we’re moving…), tonight we strapped boxes and packed wardrobes and thought things through and got things done. And it felt so good just to be together to talk and work and dig out all the change in the house and roll it up (and to discover we had $80 just …sitting around in drawers from years worth of parking meters). We enjoyed socializing yesterday with old friends, but the socializing is taking its toll, which is why we had previously tried to keep this move quiet. We are so short of time, we really have no time to be polite. If you want something of ours, come and pick it up before we sell it. If you want to see us, drop by, give us a hug, and either pitch in somewhere or go away… To the average person it would be readily apparent that this is just not a time for idly chatting and wanting us to sit and entertain you. Instead, today we were introduced to a future spouse and made a (happy) lunch for siblings. We can take a break for lunch. We just aren’t set up right now for Steve Martin scene from Father of the Bride, and still aren’t sure why it had to happen… today, when we are knee-deep in boxes… but I digress.
I found this poem today which might help you be thoughtfully miserly with your time.
“The Art of Disappearing” by Naomi Shihab Nye from Words Under the Words: Selected Poems. © The Eighth Mountain Press.
The Art of Disappearing
When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.
When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.
If they say We should get together
say why?
It’s not that you don’t love them anymore.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.
When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.
Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time.
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.
I worry about the strapping we did … but we’ll know of any problems before things get shipped. You see, we used those vacuum-bags to pack our clothes with. So, our clothes are … well, half as thick as they ought to be, and they really don’t like it. They look and feel like vacuum-packed coffee beans. Only these aren’t that well sealed, which was why we had to strap the boxes they’re in so well. I just worry that they’re going to turn into spherical objects rather than square ones, as they gradually expand.
So long as they do it in the container, when they’ve already measured the volume of our cargo. Then it doesn’t matter. Before? Well, then we’d have to pay more. Sigh.
The problem is being memorable – and it’s an affliction for both of us, I’m afraid. Put the two of us together? Well, waiters 5-years removed remember us, and have taken our picture to put upon their wall (we’ve verified that it was developed and framed, and too publicly displayed to snatch down).
It’s not stardom – it’s … something else. Plague?
I still have that waiter’s home phone number, though. He was happy to see us again. I hope he’s happy, wherever he is … so long as he hasn’t moved to Glasgow. Then there might be trouble (but good Thai food).
I JUST emailed you another poem by Naomi Shihab Nye!!! What are the odds?
I need friends to say good-bye to right now, need a break from moving panics.
Distract me! Distract me. Plus, at this point, there’s no physical work for me to be doing—just on-line and mental.