Today I Unpacked a Dish

Two and a half years ago, we packed up our kitchen for a 2-month reno. It all went terribly wrong (see old posts for more context and whining). 

Now our cupboards are almost all installed, so we've put our temporary dishes in them, but I haven't been able to unpack our boxes full of all our true kitchen dishes because -

Well, because I had packed them up in a whirl of hope. I had imagined unpacking them, starry-eyed and grateful, tucking them all into their crisp fresh homes. 

I haven't been able to unpack them because the world they were supposed to live in doesn't exist yet.

Today Vava and I did a little baking, and suddenly realized I didn't have the baking dish we needed (I've been really really good at making do for years - but we needed this one). We were halfway through the recipe. 

I knew that dish was packed up in the porch. I asked Patrick for help, and he cleared off the most easily accessible box, then opened it up.

My heart stood still. They had waited for me. They were all right there, dishes and tea towels, pots and pans and lids.

Vava asked me why I was crying as I washed the dish. "Is it special to you?" she asked, and she sounded incredulous.

"It IS me," I shrugged, laughing.

And I think it's actually all of us.

I know that on one hand you haven't been in limbo with a reno that maybe will never get finished, but on the other, I think maybe you have. I think we packed our usual lives up when Covid came, full of hope and eagerness to stop the spread. We genuinely thought an end date would come. But Covid turned out to be a really shifty contractor, making promises and taking money and delivering less and less. And we didn't ask for this and we didn't want this and it took way more from us than we imagined and we still don't have the world we'd bargained for and we still have Covid. 

How do we move forward? How do we unpack ourselves into a world we didn't pack ourselves up for?

Maybe you, like me, will do it with tears. Maybe, like Patrick, with gentleness. Maybe, like Vava, with open-hearted nonchalance. And maybe you won't even do it yet - not yet. (It's okay. There's no deadline on unpacking your own stuff.)

Because the life you packed away - the routines and plans and clothes and work you pressed pause on - that person is being unboxed into a different world than the one they dreamed about.  And I think that's a big deal.

It's not the one we hoped for.

But it's the one we've got. 

And so maybe, when you're ready - and you know you need to - 

Take a deep breath and open that box.

I hope that your unpacking will bring more joy than sorrow. I hope you will find treasures you didn't realize you cherished. And I hope you will find peace as you unpack.

Merry Christmas, friends.

❤️