Moving out or moving on

This is all so overwhelming.  The house is full of boxes, lining a wall in each room, scattered across the floor half-filled, flattened cardboard bodies waiting to expand and fulfill their purpose lining the halfways.  Only the kitchen is untouched, a bastion against change, holding out until the last moment.  Until today.
Rolls of tape text books final bills receipts bubble wrap and stacks of newspaper cover the table.  The radio is speaking its last words and a cardboard coffin awaits the television.  The walls are bare of the photos and art that lived there to be enjoyed simply.
All too soon this will all be stacked away and become a memory until we settle down again in a few years.  We'll spend the next few weeks wondering where a book is - ooops it got packed.  Or wish we could have kept that stack of pots out.  We'll worry about the collection of bottled wine that we decided not to leave out for consumption, and if the dishes and glasses were adequately packed away in layers of newspaper and plastic bubbles. All to be free to move about.