July 09, 2011

Moving Day - 1986 - Shirley S. Tye

The large moving van inched its way backwards up the gravel driveway to the front steps. Red brake lights lit up as the air brakes hushed the groaning motor. Two young muscular men climbed down from the cab. They hurried to the back of the truck, slid open the rear roll-away door and lowered the loading ramp.

Like storybook elves, they scurried about the house, happily doing their work. They lifted heavy appliances without a moan and juggled the queen-size bed-sofa through the narrow doorway while chatting about the latest hockey game. They seemed to be experienced, conscientious movers but would they take extra care with the dinning room suite?

The oak buffet and hutch which had been purchased the previous year, stood majestically against the wall. The flower design of the carved trim was dust free, the glass doors glistened in the morning sunshine and the wide two-pedestal table stood proudly in the centre of the room; the polished top displaying the natural wood grain. Neatly tucked in their places around the table were the six high-backed velvety cushioned chairs waiting for dinner to be served.

I couldn't bear to watch. Quickly I left the house and anxiously waited at our new address.

Soon the movers were unloading the truck and setting the furniture into place in our new home. Washer, dryer, and deep-freeze were carried downstairs. The bed-sofa was placed against the far wall in the sitting room. Then came the dinning room set. Gingerly the men carried the pieces in one by one and arranged the room to our wishes. Finally it was all done. And not a scratch to be seen anywhere! I sighed in relief.

As my husband and I leaned the refrigerator forward to adjust the feet under it, we heard a sound within like a bottle rolling about. Surely my husband hadn't forgotten to remove a bottle when he emptied the refrigerator that morning. Was it a bottle of ketchup or sauce? Slowly I opened the door expecting to see a smashed bottle with its contents painted in an abstract fashion on the inside walls. To my surprise the refrigerator was clean. What had rolled about? Then I checked the door compartments. There on the inside of the door were half-dozen eggs nestled in their pockets. Not one broken. And to think I had worried about the dinning room suite!

1 comment:

  1. I guess worrying about the big things, we forget the little things. But if those survive--his eye is on the sparrow--we can rest assured about the bigger things.

    Thanks Shirley for the unspoken lesson!


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