Sweet Move

Moving is such sweet sorrow. I just can’t think of the sweet part right now. My parents are moving to Laguna Woods, formerly known as Leisure World, and I am helping.

Some people say that Laguna Woods is where you go to die. They are wrong. It is actually the MOVE to Laguna Woods that kills you.

I haven’t moved in thirteen years. I’ve tried hard to block it out, but there is a lot of stuff I am now remembering. Flashbacks. Post-traumatic stress syndrome. Call it what you want. It still makes my back hurt.

For example, as soon as you stack your precious belongings in the middle of the living room floor, it looks exactly like the junk pile that is supposed to go to Goodwill. That is why I moved a whole vanload of cast-offs to the new place, only to have to schlep them back again.

Another thing I remember is how hard it is for some people to throw things out. Their junk is like a litter of unwanted kittens in search of a new home.
You must be on guard at all times from unwanted gifts.

Unfortunately, I forgot to warn my husband about my mother.

I saw him carrying an iron umbrella stand into our house. Then I watched him carry it out to our overstuffed garage when it wouldn’t fit our umbrella. Currently, it is right next to my car door. I’m waiting for either a nasty door ding or impalement, whichever comes first.

I told my mom thanks for the useless umbrella stand. She was shocked it didn’t fit. After all, it was restaurant-quality. An ugly idea formed in my brain.

“Mom, you didn’t steal the umbrella stand from a restaurant, did you?”

She got all offended. “No! Someone else stole it and threw it in the bushes. That’s where I found it.”

I’m going to be impaled on stolen property. If it happens on the “Big” moving day, you’ll know I did it on purpose.

I asked her if she had boxes. She told me her plan for scouting out the produce departments at Albertson’s and Smart & Final. At least she didn’t say anything about dumpsters.

We kids paid for moving boxes. She ordered a whole bunch. We were relieved until they arrived. They were all 12 inches by 12 inches. My mom was pleased that nothing would be too heavy.

We got our first load to Gate 278 of Laguna Woods. My mom handed me a laminated card. “Now cover this number with your thumb. Don’t roll down your window. Just smile and wave and act like you belong but keep driving. No matter what.”

This sounded a lot to me like we were sneaking in.

What kind of place was this? I envisioned being shot for phony papers. It made me nervous, but we made it through. The sentry was 120 years old and thankfully blind to the sweat on my brow.

We were in! I was elated until I realized there is only one way out…