As the elevator doors opened, they were there. They were always there when someone was moving. The guardian of the complex hangs the dense, thin gray protective surfaces in the elevators when someone is moving. I often wondered who among the dozen or so apartments was moving. It always seemed to happen incognito. They were up, they were down, without sense of any other activity. Today, I did not have to wonder for whom the gray tapestries hung, they hung for me.
A crew of two hit the apartment at 13h00. They left at 17h10. In those four hours and change, they packed the living room and dining area, cleared both large closets, packed up the guest room, and started on the kitchen. All the warmth and character this place had is gone, and will never be again. But it is OK. This chapter is closed. All the experience of living here feels as though it is being compressed for storage, it is past and time to put it away.
A few steps remain...
I have some final packing of my own to do by tomorrow so I can be completely out of their way. The cleaning crew comes tomorrow, working behind the movers to make sure everything is tip top for checkout at 17h30 tomorrow afternoon. After that, I am spending the next two nights with the Du Toit family, a good friend I have from work. Friday, I head to the airport and fly home for good.
a bientot, mes amis!