One of my sisters just moved with her husband from California to Colorado. Hearing about her adventures with moving got me reminiscing about all the moves I’ve made over the years. I always loved the idea of starting fresh in a new place with all the possibilities in front of you.
I never focused on the things I left behind, like good friends, close-by family, or work connections. Somehow, I assumed that friends would stay in touch, not realizing that distance often destroys, and certainly weakens those connections.
I would get close to nearby family—seeing a lot of the west coast members when I lived in California, my parents when I lived in Florida—and then move a couple thousand miles from them. But I had no remorse, for I was looking straight ahead at the future.
I never let closeness to family or friends influence the path I took. It would be nice if some of them were around, but that was never the deciding factor.
It took my daughter having children for me to finally realize I wanted to live closer to her and her family. I accomplished that in 2000, and for the first time in my life, I have no desire to move away.
Well, let’s not say no desire. It’s in my nature to seek new beginnings, new places. It’s in my nature to fantasize about a better life over there.
But now I just do it at night in my dreams. And occasionally browse the real-estate section of the paper.
I never minded all the physical work involved in moving. It provided clear tasks that I was good at—getting rid of excess stuff, organizing the rest of it, making boxes and filling them.
While Adrian poured over his belongings one item at a time, getting lost in memories, I’d finish my box and take over for him. “You can make your decisions at the other end,” I’d tell him. “I’ll just pack it all for you.”
Leaving was always messier than arriving. There were people to see, goodbyes to be said, an empty house to clean. And you had a deadline. The moving truck is here.
On arrival at the other end, I liked the idea that you could dedicate yourself to getting organized in your new life. It was your full-time job to unpack your stuff, get your drivers’ licenses, register the car, shop for house stuff, and learn your way around.
Moving takes a lot of energy, but it’s a job I know how to do.
Adrian in front of a section of our new house arriving fresh from the factory in Pennsylvania to Ithaca, New York in 2005.
