Carolyn and I moved six times within a span of the same number of years. We’re no strangers to packing our stuff, and this isn’t the first time I’ve seen empty rooms; rooms that were once full of life and vitality.

It didn’t really strike me until today how empty the house feels. I’m not talking about Carolyn being gone - I’m talking about our stuff being gone. After eight years of marriage there was a strong sense of things being “ours”, and there wasn’t a lot of duplication. Hence - it’s impossible to separate without there being hug vacant spaces in the house.

The contents of the master bedroom could comfortably fit in the trunk of my car now. A few hampers, my clothes, and a portrait of Muskoka from a few years ago. Since Carolyn took Muskoka, we agreed that I could keep his framed portrait.

Time to get out of the house.