5 Mondays

I countdown events by the number of Mondays until the date.  I guess it's because Mondays are the hardest day of the week, lazy weekends over and the rush of a new school/work week beginning.  Once the week starts, it's like racehorses out of the gate, off and running.  But it's Mondays that you need to get to and get through before the week can fly by. 

And so looking at the calendar today I see that we have 5 more Mondays here.  That's it, that's all.  Five.  I can count them on one hand now.  One, two, three, four, five.

There is a growing list of things that need down before I walk out of The Lily for the last time on December 15.  Some days I shoot out of sleep in the morning with the realization that there are things I've forgotten or things I can accomplish sooner rather than later. "We can apply for drivers licenses with our new addresses now,"  I gushed to sleepy-eyed Eugene early one morning.  On another morning I accost him while shaving, "The cable!  I'll have it hooked up while you are in the US next week.  We'll have phone, internet, TV as soon as we arrive!"  I remember when we've moved in the past, the realtor handing me a check list of to-dos before we close one door and open another.  I wish we had a check list now, but this move is so very different.  I don't think anyone could easily and comprehensively catalog it.

With all I've tried to get accomplished, there are also those things that are screaming for attention and I have no patience for.  Instead, I'd rather watch the last season of Desperate Housewives that I picked up for a few bucks over in Shenzen, China.  (I know Mike dies during the last season, but I'm not there yet.) Numero uno on the detestable to-do list?  Sorting through what stays and what goes. 

We went through the same process when we came here.  Walked through the rooms of Lake Edge and scrutinized what we really "need" to live for a few years and what could go into storage to be retrieved at a later date.  I think I did an ok job but I didn't get it totally right.

"Remember that story, mommy?  The one with the snake and the mongoose?"  "Rikki Tikki Tavi,"  I say.  "Yeah, can you read it to me?"  And looking at those huge saucers of brown eyes, I have to say "Sorry, baby, it's in storage."  Every time I make soup, I long for my soup cups with the Campbells soup kids on the sides.  And when Tripp comes home from school with a teacher's request for baby pictures, I just feel like a bad mom. 

The good thing is, all that stuff still exists.  In fact, this Saturday it will be yanked from the confinement of storage lockers and, under the watchful eye of my husband, will placed inside the rooms of our new house, our Bella Casa. The bad news is, the same cannot be said of our stuff here.  Turns out, we are more than a little over our shipping allowance to go back so now I have to go through our apartment, room by room, and make some hard decisions.  I need to decide what is important enough to load on a cargo ship and send back. Need to decided what parts of my Hong Kong life I want to keep.  Need to decide what to leave behind, throw away, give away.  And though it's only stuff, it bugs me, bugs me big time.  It's kind of like throwing pieces of your life away and who wants to do that?  I reason with myself and tell myself the only things I absolutely need to take home are my family.  I know this.  But it still sucks.  Sucks, sucks, sucks!  So that is why instead of making list for the packers, I'm watching Bree Van de Camp become not only an alcoholic but a bit of a tramp of a housewife.

What it all comes down to is this: time is going to keep on passing and whether I am ready or not, December 15 will arrive.  Five Mondays will become four, then three, then two and one.  My kids will run down the ramp into Hong Kong International one last time, watch our luggage chug away on the conveyor belts.  I will have my traditional mimosa before take off, look at Gene across the aisle and ask "What movie are you watching?"  And it won't matter what is crated and on its way to Apex and what is in a donation pile for the needy Chinese of Hong Kong.

There are so very many things I look forward to when I resume my real life in North Carolina. Having my foot on a gas pedal, the red trimmed doors of Target sliding open to welcome me, the cashier at Harris Teeter telling me "y'all have a good day".  The happiness of surfing through channels and finding a re-run of Happy Days on TV, sipping on Gnarly Head cabernet from my favorite flowered wine glass, sitting on our screened porch at night, listening to the crickets chirp.  Praying during Sunday mass at St. Mary Magdalene and sub sandwiches from Jersey Mikes on the way home.  My phone ringing and hearing my best friends southern drawl saying "Hey, you got a minute." The sound of the garage door opener rattling to life as Gene comes home from work, sitting down to eat a meal I made with my own two hands and listening to Brian Williams re-cap a day of world events.  And flipping through Tripp baby albums, my empty soup cup on the table in front of me, while Reagan tugs on my arm, "Please, read me Rikki Tikki Tavi again. Please, just one more time!"

After 5 more Mondays.