Home is where the heart is. But what if you haven’t had a true “permanent” home your whole life? Your heart ends up being broken into little pieces; one piece left at each place I’ve lived. I used to hate that my family moved every 3 years or so. And it wasn’t just moving from one home to another, but it was moving from one city, one state and even one country to another. Every time we started packing, I remember day dreaming about being in a family that had a forever home- where My parents lived in the same house I was born in, grew up in, graduated high school in, got engaged in, brought their grandkids to and so on.
Then I became an adult and the first thing I did was move. I didn’t just move out of my parents home to somewhere nearby, I moved to the other side of the earth- thousands of miles away from my family. And now ten years, one country and two states later, I’m yet again about to make another move. This time it’s back to the place I always considered “home”- my birthplace and the only state I lived the largest chunk of my childhood in. And for the first time in ten years, I’ll be in the same vicinity as my sisters. And I’ll be with the man I call my life partner.
It almost feels like I’ve gone full circle. I don’t hate moving anymore- quite the opposite actually. But this move is significant in so many ways. There’s a lot of uncertainty and so much is unknown, but it’s balanced out by the love and proximity of my family and loved ones. I look forward to settling down, making new friends (which gets harder as we get older), and finding new hobbies and places to make mine. But a part of me is ready for this to be my last major move. I am ready to “settle” down in one place and then keep my love for movement limited to travel instead of actually moving my whole life again.