I Need a Sharpie

Thanksgiving is over and all the leftovers are in the fridge neatly packed away.  We sat around the table, an odd group as always, filling my table that can safely seat 10 but we managed to fit 14.

Everyone went around and said what they were thankful for, under the caveat that they could not say "friends or family."  The answers varried from, "Pie, Our Lord Jesus Christ, a pug, Justin Bieber, High Diving, and Education."  My answer?

"I am thankful for having ten great Thanksgivngs in this house." 

This was our last Thankgiving in the house that I have spent more hours in than in any other house in my life.  We will be leaving it soon.  As expected I feel ambivilent about it.  On the one hand I am more than ready, and on the other I fear change.

When I leave this house I will be leaving behind memories, both heartbreaking and joyful.  My youngest only knows this house as she has grown up in it. 

When I leave this house I will leave  behind the bad memories as I refuse to carry them with me.  This may include friendships that were formed while living there.  This will include plumbing that has not worked in years,  once loved and now burried pets in the  back yard.

I feel my heart closing in and retreating back to the place where it has been most comfortable.  My heart can sustain  my family and my job.  I tried to open it up to love and new friendships, but ultimately I can see now that I am not ready to do either.

I stated before that I stand alone.  Indeed I stand alone, with the love of my family and a few select friends that seem like family.

I am tired today.  I am tired at the thought of packing.  I am tired at the pain I feel from realizing friendships have not been reciprocated.  I am tired of trying to love only to discover I just do  not feel it.  I do not feel it in the place I need to feel it the most.  My heart.

Things I thought I wanted resided only in my head and never quite made it to my heart.  I thought and hoped I was ready for that.

 I am not ready for that. 

Maybe there is only so much room in my heart and the Inn is full?

I can give my heart and think of myself as a good friend to people.  I just can not let others in to my heart.  A great injustice.

When I move I will leave behind the past.   I will bring with me the memories but I know that I will be leaving behind more than I can carry with me.  Emotionally and otherwise.
I will continue to work on myself in ways to be a better person to those I love.  I will keep asking my heart if it is now open and receptive to letting someone in, friendship or more.  I will listen to its beating and try to detect the smallest of changes.

I can pack up belongings collected over the years, and I can throw some away.

How long will I keep the box marked "My Heart" taped and shut and in storage?