move along

Today begins the preparation for my move and also marks 18 months back in Colorado. I get the keys to my new unit, only 50 paces away from my current one, first thing tomorrow morning. This morning I’m trying to clean through the wreckage and clutter I’ve amassed in the past year and a half and am trying to get organized so the hauling of items that starts tomorrow will hopefully go smoothly and quickly.

I’ve had a heavy heart about leaving this space . . . my place in the world where I sat and did my deep grieving and my healing and kicked off a whole new era in my life. It’s both terrifying and exciting that I’m moving on from this place . . .

It’s time to move on from moving on.

Driving home last night from Target, I was changing CDs out in my car. For the past 18 months, slot 5 has housed a break-up mix from my ex. He slid it in my car right before I drove away.

For some reason I haven’t been able to let go of that CD. The last tangible tie to the uproar in 2009 has been sitting in my car and has been listened to at least once a week for the past 18 months. I’ve cried 5,000 tears to that CD. Happy tears, lonely tears, angry tears, anguished tears.

I took it out and on the drive home I chucked it out into the trees. The, “Alison, I wish the best for you and I hope you get everything you want out of life” mix. I wonder if anyone will find it and wonder about the story behind it. Probably not.

So, now I’m about to hop in the car and run some errands . . . continuing to search for everything that I want out of life. Remembering to live each day at a time and look for the silver lining. It’s all gonna be all right.

Move along, move along . . . like we always do.


  1. That’s D’s loss – he didn’t deserve you anyway. And throwing the CD out the window and someone finding it – that’s straight out of a movie. That sounds like such a bittersweet moment.

  2. “You can never cross the ocean unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.” – Christopher Columbus.

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