A moving story

When you move, you shed things. Furniture, clothes, dishes, weight. Knick-knacks you’ve kept but don’t remember why. That souvenir that seemed so important at the time, but you haven’t looked at since. Books you have read and know you will never read again.

When you move, you find things. Old report cards. Fourth grade art work. Your wedding vows, pulled from a sheaf of papers found in a cardboard box in the attic. You find buried memories, tiny shining gems that remind you of who you once were and anchor you in who you are now.

When you move, you feel things. Disoriented, thrilled, sad, excited, apprehensive, upset, happy, bereft — sometimes you feel all of these things in an instant.

When you move, you do things. You open and close accounts, sign papers, write lists, balance budgets, plan travel, say “goodbye,” say “hello.”

When you move, you miss things. You miss your friends, you miss your yard, you miss your activities, you miss your grocery store. You miss the screaming cicadas on a sweltering summer night. You miss the dangerous allure of alligators in a nearby pond.

When you move, you experience new things. You meet new people, make new friends, discover new activities. You explore your neighborhood. You feel the cool air of a delta breeze hit your face after a hot, sunny day.

When you move, you see yourself, and the world, in a new way.

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