Pack, pack, packing away

I have gathered up some boxes for the move, luckily the trip to the liqour store was fruitful, and I picked up two bottles of pinot noir, which is my favorite type of wine. But anyway I digress.

The basement is most of what’s left, old Steven King books, and other horror/fantasy type texts which I have amassed through yard sales and trips to the 10 cent store.

Jennifer asked me how I could leave this place after growing up here. This place, this warm house, where the kitchen is laced with the sweet smell of simmering tomato sauce we as a family have made each and every summer. The four of us in the backyard, around 10am my grandfather; on my mother’s side, would come over with fresh basil from his garden. I miss that alot, he would make tomato and basil sandwiches with olive oil on fresh baked Semolina bread. Yum.

Those days are gone..long gone, and these memories I don’t think I can chase forever, as much as it makes me forget that I’m heading forward to that elusive and sometimes frustrating role of adult.

Well, the boxes are waiting for me…

*pack pack packs away*