When I was a kid, we’d pack up and move every year. My dad would come home sometime around April and tell us what Army base we were headed for next. I moved something like 14 times in my childhood. Everyone asks me how it felt to move so much. I didn’t know better. All the other Army kids I knew moved too. I figured that’s the way everyone lived. I learned otherwise as I got older but the fact is it felt normal to me. It still does.
I know genes are powerful things, but I believe in nurture too. And moving every year had a powerful effect on me. I learned how to make friends quickly. And I learned how to forget friends just as quickly. The former has been a huge asset. The latter has been a curse I have not yet learned how to kick.
I think the gypsy thing is part of me. After five great years at our townhouse in NYC, we are moving. Not because we have to. Because we want to. The Gotham Gal and I have never lived anywhere as long and it’s time for another scene in this play we call life.
Tonight is the last night in our home. The moving company comes tomorrow and stuff starts pouring out of the home making it inhabitable. We’ll be in flux most of this week and hopefully land safe and sound in our new home by the end of the week.
People say that moving is one of the most stressful things in life. I suppose it’s true. But to me it’s like taking a bath, a cleansing feeling.
I guess change is a matter of taste. Some hate it. Others love it. I am in the latter camp. Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes.