Raven's Roads
Living an interesting life: the travels and musings
of motorcycling author Linda R. Moore

Apr 11, 2007

Thinking Out Loud: Dents and Holes

This afternoon the fifth of our 29 mobile homes was removed, and there is now a large gap between the two halves of the small park. Meanwhile, I continue to fill boxes up with stuff, and yet the gaps in here just don’t seem as noticeable. Out there, it’s as though somebody pulled teeth without anaesthetic–a deliberately cruel act towards those of us who still live here. We are increasingly exposed, wounded, saddened. I can’t help but think that there’s some kind of bullying going on here; a conscious dismantling of our neighborhood so that the rest of us move out quickly.

And yet there will still be those who stay to the bitter end. They must know that, but they are doing it anyway.

After the yard sale, I offered the remaining things up on our local equivalent of Freecycle(TM). (We set up our own group independently.)

I have been absolutely amazed at the response to my lists of “offer: this and that.” Within a day, if not within minutes, half of what I offered was snapped up. The rest went not long afterwards, and I was able to donate a box of leftovers to a lady who was running a yard sale in aid of charity. Now, I’ve heard of Freecycle flakes, people who claim and then don’t show, but not this group. People came when they said they would, or made new arrangements if they couldn’t. And they brought me presents. I received a box of Girl Scout cookies that, in the craziness of the last few months, I had never gotten around to ordering. I received more boxes to put my stuff in, a printout of an archived news article about the closure, and many warm wishes as people expressed their regret that such a thing was happening.

It was amazing in a good way that, while all my unwanted articles were being rehoused most satisfyingly with loving homes and people who needed them, these people still found a moment to be kind, to share a story. Sure, in many cases it was still one of the many variants of “Gimme that please,” and two days later “that” was gone; but more often than not I’d hear who wanted the item and why, and how delighted they were with it.

It was amazing in a wry way that I had so much stuff that I didn’t want, and even though I’ve now filled oh, around 30 boxes, I still can’t tell much of a difference.

And it was amazing that something good could come of it all.

So while there are dents in our hearts right now, and holes in our park, it isn’t all bad. It isn’t all bad at all.