The house continues to empty and the absence of our two dogs makes our home strangely silent and peaceful. All that’s left now are errant pet hairs and odors that linger in the carpet, soon to be washed away. Books continue to go into boxes, filed away into storage or sorted for donation. And yet, our departure is still postponed as we await more government documentation. It’s odd to be living in a wider space with much of the clutter swept away. My brain seems to be less distracted, but the waiting makes me wonder if all of this is only an exercise with no eventual jumping off point. I’m learning to embrace the emptiness, the silence of the vacant space, the void that was previously a cozy hoard tucking me in, weighing me down to one spot.