We are Moved

Technically, we moved three months ago but today it finally feels like we live here. Is that what happens? You wake up one morning and decide okay unpacked boxes are not, I’m moved. That’s the trouble with the boxes too. For if we’re moved in and clearly don’t need anything from those boxes—-why are they here?! Today is the day we make a dance floor out of the garage. We’ve been meaning to do this for actually way more than three months. We wanted to do this at the old place but there were boxes from the move before in the way.

Speaking of which. I feel moved in other ways. Advanced reviews of the my book Sadgirls & Other Stories are starting to trickle in (book comes out later this month on Solstice Literary Press) and the confidence in the book that was zapped just by sheer exhaustion is coming back. What does it mean when you see a quote on a page and think damn, that’s a great quote and then you realize it’s your own writing? Ha.

Moved by Halloween. That sounds weird. It’s so a nothing holiday anymore, though favorite when I was a kid. I dressed as Death from the Sandman —clearly really not to different from my own early 20s gothy years and I only needed to purchase two things to complete the look. But this year I don’t know. The weirdness of suddenly the two children being too old to want to trick or treat or pass out candy. No trick or treaters. The son off on a sleepover of scary movies (though dressed as the 10th Doctor). The daughter going out with her friends dressed as Lorde with Bat Wings. No more Buzz Lightyear costumes and Wonder Woman. No more store bought anything. They manage on their own. But I got to dance. I got to have a 4 am conversation with the husband. I got to realize that going out with friends for me always ends at midnight. I am the pumpkin that I turn into.

And now it’s the Day of the Dead. I’m not hung over because I really didn’t have anything to drink. I barely put up and altar this year but one could argue my whole house to be somewhat of an altar. On task today is feeding people and washing my hair a million times to get the 1980s worth of hairspray out of it. I thought I would feel tired today or old. But I just feel at the brink of something new. That thing that moving does to you.

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About margaretelysiagarcia

Margaret Elysia Garcia primarily writes fiction, essays and poetry from a remote corner of the Sierra Nevada. She's currently working on a non-fiction book about plus-sized modeling. She's also searching for a publisher for her new collection of stories? Mary of the Chance Encounters. Her short story collection Sad Girls & Other Stories out now on Solstice Literary Press. She blogs here and at Throwing Chanclas and Girl Body Pride. Is a contributor to Hip Mama Magazine. She writes the zine The Adventures of Sad Girl with her daughter, Paloma. She’s a three-time director of the national Listen to Your Mother Show in Plumas County (www.listentoyourmothershow.com). She has an alternative women’s music show Milkshake & Honey on Plumas Community Radio (www.kqny919.org).
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