I’ve been quiet recently. Mostly because I’ve been doing a lot of processing.
You see, we’re moving this summer. The basics are this: my husband got accepted to a PhD program, and we’ll be heading to Texas sometime in the next few months.
Where it gets more complicated is in the planning process. There are people to say goodbye to on this end, boxes to pack, and things to sell. There are houses to look at on the other end, and travel plans to finalize, and new jobs and old jobs and questions from children.
And there are emotions. So many emotions.
From a strictly logical standpoint, I’m really good at moving. I’ve done it so many times, I know exactly how to pack a box. I know how to play tetris with my belongings, and which bits have to make it onto the moving truck first. I have my list of essentials to buy for whatever new place we end up in (most immediate: toilet paper and a shower curtain).
But even with all of the moves of my past, it’s still hard each time.
If home is where the heart is, then mine is like a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces from my childhood homes are small and faded, and while I don’t remember much about some of them, they were there, bright and shining, for my formative years.
There’s one big, bold piece from the place I lived the longest, where I met my husband. Where three of my children were born.
There are pieces from my travels. Places I haven’t actually lived, but where I’ve set my hat for days or weeks.
And with each addition, my heart breaks and then reforms to fit in that new piece.
Because moving is never a black and white process. We’re excited to go somewhere new. To find new favorite places to hang out. To eat new foods and drink new coffee and read new books at a new library.
But we’re sad to leave behind friends. To step out of the comfort of knowing which roads to drive on, and which grocery stores have the best prices, and the simple everyday things that will shift even a little bit as we adjust to a new place.
And I’m trying to temper all of my BIG FEELINGS with those of my children, and help them get used to the idea while I’m in a space of needing extra time to process things myself.
I’ve never been one to settle down. After a roller coaster of a childhood, I vowed to find a place and get some roots.
And yet, here we are again.
We moved a lot when I was younger. But then a funny thing happened. My parents started doing what they loved, and they stopped moving. So maybe we just haven’t found the right place yet.
It’s never an easy decision to pick up and go. But I’m also learning that sometimes it’s the right decision. And once we find the right place, I hope we stay. Every time we move, I think this is it. This will be the place. And sometimes it is, for a time. And sometimes it’s not. But it’s still a piece of the puzzle.
I hope this time we plant our roots deep. And then, if we need to, I hope we can carefully dig them up again.
We’re heading off on a new adventure. It’s time to add a new piece to the puzzle.