I had a spiral notebook in that drawer for grocery lists.
I turned to a clean page and I wrote, in my own handwriting:
Things That Belong to Me
And then I started the list, and I’m going to tell you something that surprised me completely: every single line I wrote gave me another inch of air.
Refrigerator.
Living room furniture.
Dining room set and chairs.
Washing machine.
Dryer.
Television.
Coffee maker.
Both guest beds.
Curtains, all downstairs.
Four lamps.
Dinnerware, both sets.
Patio furniture.
Blender.
Thirteen lines. It took me maybe nine minutes.
And when I got to the bottom of that list, I was a different woman than the one who had come down those stairs at seven-forty, and I cannot tell you exactly how that happened.
I Called a Moving Company at 9:15 on Thanksgiving Morning and a Man Named Mbeki Answered on the Fourth Ring
