Moving Day #3 for the month. Just when we finally settle into one place, our life gets shuffled around for some reason or another. Our new flat is smaller but conveniently located just one floor below our current flat, so the move won’t be bad. Plus, we don’t have much to mvoe. All of our things are still weighing in around 47 lbs. So yes, we’ve amassed one additional pound since arriving in Copenhagen, but we really needed a french press and two coffee mugs.
As I washed last night’s dinner dishes, Fredo went downstairs to begin wiping out cabinets and vacuuming the floors. I joined him when I was done, going from one kitchen straight into another, washing a different set of dishes in an unfamiliar sink. He had Andrew Bird’s Armchair Apocrypha album playing in the speakers. Somewhere between Cataracts and Scythian Empires, I began to remember the night, three years ago now, when I first heard this album.
I was living on 8th Street then. I’d been studying all night and walked up to the 3rd floor attic that was my bedroom at a very early hour of the morning. I should’ve stayed downstairs long enough to brush my teeth, but I didn’t. I needed to unwind from my studies somehow. Music has always been a vital part of me, but never more necessary I don’t think than when I was in grad school. And while crouched beneath the florescent light of a library desk earlier that night, I’d downloaded some new music that I was eager to hear.
I hit play, and Fiery Crash began. I laid down on the coarse carpet, just beneath the tiny window that held the moon. I was wearing denim jeans and a long-sleeve black shirt. My thoughts were all over the place. I was grief-stricken in those days.
And now I am here, I thought last night. Cleaning dishes in a tiny kitchen on the small island of Denmark, while my love is scrubbing cabinets in the next room.
I may be able to recall that night three years ago, but I cannot fully return to it. Life has changed, in a way that I could’ve never imagined back then. And so have I as well.
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