Someone recently asked me how long I have lived in this place. I replied, “About three years…the longest I have ever stayed anyway.” He then asked if that made me feel uncomfortable. I realized from his tone and expression that he was under the impression that I liked to move. He probably got this impression from my daughter. I thought this might be a good time to set the story straight. I hate moving! As a matter of fact, the past eight moves almost broke me completely. Let me explain.
Since I turned eighteen, I have moved in excess of sixty times. Yeah, I know, WOW, right? I’ve thought over these moves since that question and only six of those moves could be classified as moves I chose to make and one of them was iffy.
All the other moves were due to others choices…jobs, parents, husbands, landlords, schooling, etc. There were a number of moves that were made in less than six months, one was made after a three month stay. You’d have to be crazy to love that. OK, I’m crazy but not that kind of crazy.
I had been moved around a lot as a child. My dream for when I grew up was to have a “Waltons” type of home. You know, one that had been in the family for generations. I so longed for a “stay put” place. But that was not to be. So I did what I always do when things happen that I don’t like. I made the most of it. I tried to make each and every move an adventure for my family. We became very expert in the art of moving. We could take down a house in a day, move and get most of it back together in another day.
While boxes were still being unloaded from the truck I was hanging curtains, pictures, putting out knickknacks and designating a play area for the kids. I worked really hard at making each place a home as soon as possible for my children’s sake. We used to hear this comment a lot, “This place looks like you’ve lived here for years!” That was my goal.
I took plates full of cookies and my children around each new neighborhood to make new friends. We approached people at the parks and playgrounds and introduced ourselves. Since our church is pretty much the same wherever you go, that helped tremendously. I took us all on rides around the new areas to familiar ourselves with the new terrain. Getting lost was how we found the shortcuts that all the natives knew.
And I hated every minute of it. I hated that each fall I planted bulbs I would never see bloom. Each spring I planted perennial gardens that I would never see grow. I hated trying to figure out each year where the Christmas tree would go. I hated spending my time and money on fixing up dreary places for owners who didn’t care. I hated all the money each move cost. I hated saying good bye…over and over and over again.
I often wondered about what I could get accomplished if all the time, emotions, money and physical work I had to spend on moving was available for other things. I envied those I met who had been in the same town all their life. I envied those who had been in their homes long enough to have to repaint. I envied those who had friends that had known them since they were children. I longed to know what it felt like to have those things.
So am I uncomfortable? Hell, no! I have been here for three springs to see the things I planted last year come up. I have been here long enough to learn that I don’t have to get it all done at once. I can have yard projects for this year and a little more for next year and a little more for the year after that. We just remodeled the bathrooms. That’s something I would have “manically” done right after moving in before.
I have all that time and energy that used to be spent worrying about moving, moving and settling in to use for other things. It’s great! I have good friends and good neighbors. And I know where to put the Christmas tree each year. I love it! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
Since I turned eighteen, I have moved in excess of sixty times. Yeah, I know, WOW, right? I’ve thought over these moves since that question and only six of those moves could be classified as moves I chose to make and one of them was iffy.
All the other moves were due to others choices…jobs, parents, husbands, landlords, schooling, etc. There were a number of moves that were made in less than six months, one was made after a three month stay. You’d have to be crazy to love that. OK, I’m crazy but not that kind of crazy.
I had been moved around a lot as a child. My dream for when I grew up was to have a “Waltons” type of home. You know, one that had been in the family for generations. I so longed for a “stay put” place. But that was not to be. So I did what I always do when things happen that I don’t like. I made the most of it. I tried to make each and every move an adventure for my family. We became very expert in the art of moving. We could take down a house in a day, move and get most of it back together in another day.
While boxes were still being unloaded from the truck I was hanging curtains, pictures, putting out knickknacks and designating a play area for the kids. I worked really hard at making each place a home as soon as possible for my children’s sake. We used to hear this comment a lot, “This place looks like you’ve lived here for years!” That was my goal.
I took plates full of cookies and my children around each new neighborhood to make new friends. We approached people at the parks and playgrounds and introduced ourselves. Since our church is pretty much the same wherever you go, that helped tremendously. I took us all on rides around the new areas to familiar ourselves with the new terrain. Getting lost was how we found the shortcuts that all the natives knew.
And I hated every minute of it. I hated that each fall I planted bulbs I would never see bloom. Each spring I planted perennial gardens that I would never see grow. I hated trying to figure out each year where the Christmas tree would go. I hated spending my time and money on fixing up dreary places for owners who didn’t care. I hated all the money each move cost. I hated saying good bye…over and over and over again.
I often wondered about what I could get accomplished if all the time, emotions, money and physical work I had to spend on moving was available for other things. I envied those I met who had been in the same town all their life. I envied those who had been in their homes long enough to have to repaint. I envied those who had friends that had known them since they were children. I longed to know what it felt like to have those things.
So am I uncomfortable? Hell, no! I have been here for three springs to see the things I planted last year come up. I have been here long enough to learn that I don’t have to get it all done at once. I can have yard projects for this year and a little more for next year and a little more for the year after that. We just remodeled the bathrooms. That’s something I would have “manically” done right after moving in before.
I have all that time and energy that used to be spent worrying about moving, moving and settling in to use for other things. It’s great! I have good friends and good neighbors. And I know where to put the Christmas tree each year. I love it! That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?
No comments:
Post a Comment