We put off the inevitable for as long as we could, making preparations in the background while focusing on the present and resolutely refusing to accept the impending reality of our move. The inevitable being what it is, of course, it could not be put off indefinitely. If one narrows the aperture enough, the present can be reduced to a single moment in time, but it can also have a more expansive definition: this day, this week, this month… As the calendar turned to June this week, we could no longer forestall the inevitable. This is the month we depart Costa Rica. We won't board our plane for another two weeks, but our move is now; it's time to get to work.
We ended May with a final hurrah: a weeklong birding trip for D culminating in his third straight Volcanic Tournament while S and the kids made one final weekend getaway trip with their best friends. Returning to San Jose a few birds shy of his goal of 700 Costa Rican species, D briefly entertained the possibility of squeezing in one more birding outing. As he began to unpack closets and pack boxes, however, the enormity of the task ahead hit him with full force and he abandoned his birding aspirations. We got the rugs cleaned and rolled, and it turns out those rugs really did tie our rooms together. After a week of sorting, organizing, donating, and packing, the house already looks half-lived-in.
Because moving is a drawn-out process, it's sometimes difficult to know where to begin. The temptation always is to start around the edges, packing things one rarely uses while avoiding the inevitable disruption of putting away everyday items. Of course, it's impossible to make any meaningful progress until one takes the bull squarely by the horns. Among the things D tackled this week were the kids' play space and arts & crafts supplies. Naturally, the kids had a much more nebulous idea of the timeline for our move. This weekend, for example, they took turns hosting friends for sleepovers — extended play dates that took place against the backdrop of half-packed boxes and barren walls. Nothing quite like seeing their toys packed away to drive home the reality of the forthcoming translocation.
Munchkin appears to be handling this move quite well. Now ten, he has matured appreciably during the last couple of years. Junebug, on the other hand, is giving off clear signs of distress. Our move to the Philippines, when Munchkin was about a year younger than she is now, was the most difficult one for him. It took him half a year to adjust to life in Manila and get his emotions under control (and then the pandemic hit, throwing all of us an unexpected curveball). Although she is a bit older than he was during that difficult move, it looks like our departure from Costa Rica might hit Junebug hardest of all, which is saying a lot given how much we've all enjoyed living here these last two-and-a-half years.
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