I am slowly coming to grips with some of the basics I will have to forgo living in the new house – temporarily all, thankfully, because otherwise I would have to reconsider the move entirely.

I now sit  on the floor packing my books, tearily saying ‘hasta luego, pablo’ ‘До скорой встречи, Федор’, ‘mi mancherai, Niccolò’, ‘attends-moi, Honoré’…sigh. B. assures me a library will be our first priority as soon as we are settled. Goodness I do hope we settle soon or I may end up with separation anxiety.

I will have to say farewell to my Sunday mornings at Italian Centre Shop for a latte and a pastry. Where will I get seasonal fresh figs or truly good cannolis? This sad situation will only need be endured a few months, however, as a third Italian Centre Shop is opening in February just ten blocks north of the new house. I am certain I can survive, and if I cannot, I will send B to fetch cannolis for me.

The realtor allowed us back in one more time, pre-move, and we measured. The walk-in closet will suffice for my dresses, sweaters, pants and skirts, but will not hold my shoes. There is broom closet down the hall from the master bedroom that can be fitted with shelves and that may do, but I don’t know what I will do with my boots. I will have to be creative and find a place for them.

Still, though, I think the move is good. A few sacrifices aside. After all, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

AND, I know, if i get a little melancholy in my book-cannoli-shoeless home I can just come here where you all understand and love me.