Women’s Memoirs with Kendra Bonnett and Matilda Butler, Post #15 – Memoir Journal, Matilda Butler
Memoir and Blog Journaling
Yesterday started out lighthearted.
We looked at our Okie-loaded car and decided it wasn’t safe to drive. Our silver Honda CRV, even with the back seat down, was filled from bottom to top and left to right. Small crannies had been productively used to store a lovely cotton throw blanket with historic buildings of Gilroy woven into the design that given us by the world’s greatest real estate agent, a backpack filled with Jasmine tea bags, an extra pair of muddy black flats I had used to trek back and forth between our main house and Casita (our guest cottage) in the final days of the move out, a soft black cashmere scarf given to me by one of my sons that almost got tossed by mistake when clearing a box of this and that, as well as other small objects.
In order to be able to see out the back window, we drove to a nearby UPS store in Morgan Hill and shed three large suitcases and two boxes. By now, we had given up on the distinction of “must have” items. We knew we wanted books and research documents and office supplies and computers with us so that we could get back to writing as soon as possible. By this second UPS run, we just sent off the biggest cases. By now, I have no idea if I even have something nice to wear on Thanksgiving since I packed all my clothes in two suitcases, thinking both would be with me. I didn’t bother to put specific outfits in each. Even with the downsizing, my feet still rest on a box filled with Meyer lemons and pineapple guavas that were picked and packed in the dark of the previous night. All part of the adventure.
Yesterday was a lot of fun. We got to say goodbye to each of the towns that we have known so well. Goodbye Morgan Hill (where we shopped at Trader Joe’s). Goodbye San Jose (the nearest large city with its resources of restaurants, art theaters, Tech Museum, and more). Goodbye Sunnyvale (where we stopped for a goodbye to Hobee’s and brunched on our favorite tofu scramble with hashbrowns). Goodbye Mountain View (where we had our Knowledge Access International company from 1985-1997). Goodbye Palo Alto (where we lived for 25 years before moving to Gilroy and where many close friends still live–wanting to say farewell we knew we had to keep moving). There were other memories as we drove Highway 101 to San Francisco and we mentally checked off each place. Often I said to the air, “Goodbye.” Although there was a blinding rain around San Mateo, the sun came out, the Bay sparkled, and the Golden Gate Bridge gleamed as we crossed it. We gave ourselves time to stop in Sausalito, have a cup of green tea, stand beside the water and look across the Bay to San Francisco’s buildings that shown in the distance.
Then we settled into the long haul. Soon we moved out of the traffic and entered wine country. Red-tipped leaves of the grape vines stretched across the Alexander Valley as far as the eye could see. I was surprised that being in a valley would so quickly remind me of our Santa Clara Valley, the view we had each morning.
We had to decide how far to go as we didn’t want to drive after dark. We knew we were too tired from packing and lifting boxes. As an aside, I bristled each time a packer would offer to help when I lifted a piece of furniture or a heavy box. I kept saying, “No, thanks. I’m strong.” Even they began to comment on how strong I am. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t ache now. It feels as if every muscle and bone hurt. But it’s a good hurt.
We stopped for the night in Ukiah. A good choice. We found a natural foods store and bought Amy’s entrees. It was easy to find some that were both vegan and gluten-free, not a combination I can easily find in restaurants in small towns. Soon we were checked in and the air filled with spices as the microwave oven turned out our dinners.
I worked on the computer until after 11PM getting a future blog ready. I was tired by then and it was time for sleep.
Once the lights were out and I began the release of the day, the realization forcefully hit me. This wasn’t a vacation even though we’d driven 101 on various vacations since I’d move to California in 1970. We were no longer Californians. We no longer had a home. The realization settled in throughout my body. We really had done it. What was ahead?
The adventure continues.
