I've always liked moving. Not the actual process of packing up my crap and hauling it to a new location-that sucks. But settling into a new house, making it my own and putting my own little artistic stamp on it, that is pure fun for me. I also really like the purging that comes with moving! I have my certain things I am sentimental about, and my boyfriend likes to jokingly refer to me as a hoarder, but in reality, I don't have a problem with throwing out, donating or selling things I no longer need.
Unlike many people I know, I don't get attached to houses. I have moved several times over my lifetime, and when I am moving out of a house, there is no real nostalgia attached to it. The one exception to that is the house I lived in when my children were small-I do have some fond memories of it and occasionally drive by the old neighborhood.
Maybe some of this stems from a childhood that was profoundly lacking in permanence. My parents divorced when I was four years old, and there was a lot of moving and disruption in the following years. I went to several different schools, watched my family change and grow (not necessarily in bad ways, but for kids, all change tends to be stressful) and generally felt kind of lost in shuffle of it all.
In retrospect, I guess I'm somewhat thankful for this early lesson-that change is the one thing in life we can count on. Nothing ever stays the same-nothing. We grow, we live, we die. People come and go in our lives, sometimes forever, sometimes for periods of time. Our children go from being completely dependent on us to being annoyed by us to (hopefully!) appreciating and needing us again someday. Our parents age and need care. We move, change jobs, travel, and if we are doing it right, learn from the mistakes we are bound to make and continue to grow as we navigate our time on this earth. Change is the crux of our human life, and our survival has depended on us being one of the most adaptable species on the planet.
So here we are. Unpacking, sorting, more trips to the dump or the donation bin. My son said "Is this it, are we done moving now?" Like most kids, he is tired of our wandering-we've moved three times in the last four years, as well as him having to deal with divorce and a new school. He is happy now, but change, oh how hard it can be.
I think I can safely tell him this is the last move for a long time. We love this house. Its not huge, but it is perfect for us. We have my father set up with his own room and space, he may be here awhile, or he may decide to find his own new house. My son's room is coming together and I can see my kitchen counters. We are in a neighborhood where people greet us, introduce themselves, actually say "welcome to the neighborhood". Its unique, and lovely, and I think we will be happy here for many years.
But I won't discount those winds of change. They are always there, shifting under the surface, waiting for complacency and disregard. And I'm okay with that, because its always about the next adventure.
For now, though, we are home.
