On moving

So, so much for which I was not prepared. Nothing is in the same place.  The view out the window is alien. The bugs are creepy; the foliage strange. The air sweats.

Every once in a while something will ring familiar, rising up from childhood: stickers lurking in the grass, grits on a menu, a bale of pine straw. Comforting, in their ways.

Everything else is owner’s manual-dependent: the washer and dryer, the coffee maker, the stove. I don’t know how to work the new microwave, and am too busy mastering the iPad to really care. The 30-second button does me just fine.

All that said, it’s beautiful here. I know it’s going to be amazing, Right now, we’re just squatting on the riverbank, plotting how to plow through the crazy currents of moving, admiring the view. You know, over there.

The harder I work to create routine and harmony in her new world, the more aware I am of how much is missing in mine. We are the lucky ones, I know: we have chosen this, and we have support, and this is a common experience we’ll surely pass through soon enough and with all of the essentials intact.

And we’re learning so much. our eyes are a little more open now, our hearts a little more porous. We’ve grown some empathy and found perspective we didn’t even know we were lacking.

(That’s one thing about travellers, at least about me as a traveller: I overestimated how well I understood the world because I’d moved through so much of it, intentionally fashioned myself into the foreigner so often. But now I appreciate that it’s one thing to lengthen the rope, and quite another to completely unearth the anchor.)

Other things I’ve learned? Bigger is not automatically better. Although we have two-and-a-half times more space here, we still share a bedroom. All of us. Every night we drag the dog beds into our bedroom, where Anna sleeps on an airbed. Right now she won’t go into her room alone after dark, no matter how many lights are blazing. She has yet to use her own bathroom: all she’s known is sharing ours, and all I’ve known is get-dressed and go-to-bed routines tightly gathered into a small space. I’m efficient at this but I have no idea how to diversify. We have one bathmat here, so we move it back and forth between the tub and the shower. (I don’t want to buy a second, because we have a perfectly good one in San Diego.) Also in San Diego? Apparently, our pots and pans, which didn’t make it onto the truck. Things I never thought I’d miss: Hallowe’en decorations, the printer cart, the pot rack and our key hook.

Apparently, now my perspective on stuff needs some work.

As soon as I figure out how to operate the toaster oven.

Published in: on September 18, 2011 at 9:30 AM  Comments (1)  

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One CommentLeave a comment

  1. Moving can be a drag! Especially with children!!

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