A story of stress and success, pain and gain, stages and ages.
Seeing everything wrapped in plastic plunged me into the reality of what was about to happen. It happened last Monday and Tuesday. On Monday, three guys arrived to sheathe furniture in plastic wrap and help me pack — the total weight of the three, my guess, was 900 pounds. These guys were all muscle and very professional. They didn’t move anything out of my co-op apartment; they just got it ready for the big move on Tuesday.
The Tuesday crew was more traumatic. They loaded all the clothing I hadn’t given away into wardrobe cartons with shoes on the bottom. I wondered if I would lose the memories of where I went in those discarded outfits, of the unique places I went with matching shoes as I sorted through my remaining wardrobe. As each room emptied, my heart filled with fear about how it would feel to move. I was leaving a co-op where I lived for almost forty years and knew all my neighbors. Now, strangers would surround me who would come and go. It already felt empty and sad. I was filled with doubt about my capabilities.
The last time I lived in NYC was 1960, sixty-one years ago. When I left, I was twenty-eight, now I’m approaching ninety. The difference is colossal, and I felt uncertain about my future. I was not only sad but petrified. And I was giving up my car, on top of everything else.
I feel insecure about my upcoming life here in the Big Apple. How will I get groceries, learn to transport myself around the city, and walk? The pandemic curtailed my activity level, and I quickly became short of breath. My confidence and sense of health and strength could be better.
Fairway is diagonally across the street, and it was the first grocery store I visited. On Wednesday, I took my laundry cart to transport the groceries home. It was too big and bulky. On Thursday, I found a lightweight cart in a local store for $13.50 (a bargain)to walk my groceries home. I felt triumphant!
So far, so good. I exist here and eat regularly.
My wonderful family and friends take care of me. And I can take care of myself. We are making many plans for getting together when my life settles down.
The level of activity I’ve seen in my neighborhood has been energizing. Everyone goes about efficiently, from babies in carriages to folks as old or even older than me. There is no reason I can’t do it, too.