On Tuesday, the container guys showed up with this 20 foot, rust-red container on a big truck, and proceeded to make off with my stuff. It had taken me a number of months to pack it all (by myself and with help from my amazing daughter-in-law) so it was kinda awesome to see them carefully fit it all into the container in a little under three hours.
During our last walk-through, I realized that I had forgotten to tell them about the heavy butcher-block dining table, but the head packer said it wouldn’t be a problem, and it wasn’t — they laid it on its side and slid it into the container, and it went in like buttah.
When I expressed my admiration, the packer grinned and said, “I like Tetris.” It shows.
Once they were gone, the living room looked empty, but in a big-breath, arms-wide, freeing kinda way. I have enough furniture and housewares to see me through until I go, and that’s all I really need.
That afternoon, my friend Marion followed me to the Port of Oakland, where they are working on the roadway and sent us to a detour that took us entirely around the port before we found the Matson dock. The port’s fascinating: those huge cranes that manage to look both pre-historic and futuristic, and containers piled on containers, and immense trucks growling down the asphalt. I left my little silver Fit to Matson and we drove home, having successfully evaded rush-hour traffic. That’s true friendship: driving for two hours in return for a mediocre Chinese lunch and an opportunity to talk books non-stop through the meal and on the way home. No doubt about it: I’m gonna miss having my circle of friends close by, even though I expect to make other ones on the Big Island.