I can hear the boats creaking, the waves clashing against their hulls.
Cars rumble past, at times with a momentary hint of loud music.
Then the up-and-down creaking is back,
A thump-thumping in the night.
The occasional gull caws.
Voices of people walking past at this time, no longer today but tomorrow.
Then the creaking returns.
And all of this life I listen in on
from the comfort of my bed.
Today I said the first "see you soon". I hadn't thought about having to say goodbye, about probably not seeing people again, about things ending. All the packing and panicking has been occupying my mind and my time. Moving is such bullshit. Throwing away things, wondering if you should be on Hoarders, packing things as efficiently as you can possibly imagine (the threat of having to move everything in one car always looming, the constant questioning of where everything came from, and then the stress of hauling the stuff around. Strange how we attach meaning to objects that we could very well live without. This sedentary lifestyle, enabling us to believe there is value in keeping things.
Tomorrow I pack up the last bits and move everything to the ground floor before friends come over for a last celebration. And on Saturday it is really goodbye. Damn. How time flies when you don't know what the hell you are doing.