packing things into boxes, you forget how much stuff you have quietly tucked away, shoved into drawers and into closets. the new house smells like something i haven't figured out yet. two dollar pink curtains and a basement that is almost horror movie scary. the neighbors quietly come by to check us out, a procession of small children pushing bikes. one climbs a tree and tells me he sees a rat disappearing down a hole.

i am obsessively putting small things onto shelves, arranging books into secret categories that make sense only to me. i am afraid i will come back and the house will be gone, i dream people have started living in it and they answer the door when we slide the key in the lock. i am afraid something this good will disappear.