Reality

I have moved so many times in my life, it's not even funny. This fact is mainly because my dad was a seminary student, then a pastor, and then a military chaplain. I know what it's like to live in tiny, cinderblock houses....big, historic houses....quaint brick houses....modest apartments....and even military transit houses (barracks from WWII is what they really were). All in all, I think I moved close to ten times before I turned 22.


Because of this, I was familiar with many things:
- The new-factory smell of off-white newspaper print used to wrap fragile items...that smell permeates a house
- The lack of sleep you get the last night in your home before leaving
- The experience of driving down the interstate, looking behind you to see your entire life being strung along within a huge moving truck
- The pain felt leaving old friends behind (even childhood friends were dear friends)
- The excitement and nervousness felt when you make a brand new friend
- The familiar sight of those little moving stickers that are placed on every box, every piece of furniture (some of which I still find lurking underneath tables and chairs in my own house now)

So, being familiar with the entire process, you'd think I'd be okay with the sight of boxes quickly filling my surroundings, taking over my normal living space. I'm not. It's something you don't ever quite get used to....your heart never grows cold to seeing everything you own be stuffed into corrugated cardboard and stacked miles high. Even before becoming transient, you feel transient....and it's a feeling like no other. A feeling I'd like Gardner to have to experience as few times in his life as possible.

I never thought I was one who accepted change well, but the more I live, the more I realize that's not true. All of my moves have made me into an extremely adaptable person, and Ken even pointed out to me the other day that I'm more open to change than he is. (Wow. That's kind of like a husband admitting he's wrong and she's right. Well....not quite. But it was still a shocking realization.)

I am thankful for my ability to "go with the flow." But let me assure you....all is not as calm and serene on the inside as it may appear on the outside. My stomach is still in knots when I think about those few days in limbo between houses. My heart still aches when I think that I will be leaving behind the house we first brought Gardner into as a three-day old newborn. Part of me will always worry and wonder about these neighborhood cats we've come to adopt outside.

This is harder than I thought it'd be.


(On another note, Ken and I finally watched the movie "Crash" last night. (So what if we're a little behind on the current times?) If you can possibly overlook all of the four-letter words in this film, I give you one three-letter word to sum it up: WOW. Now that's a movie that makes you think.)

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