I love to travel. It's an adrenaline rush, getting on a plane and getting off in a completely unfamiliar place. It makes me feel like I'm battling against the world with only my wits and credit cards on my side, and I (so far) have come out on top.Even better is getting a chance to live somewhere different for a while. Not just see it for a day as a tourist, but really live there and establish routines. I loved living in England for a year, feeling like I was really part of the community. Getting to know things about British life that a tourist wouldn't notice, like how strikes are just an everyday part of life that's no big deal, and their delivery pizzas don't have very good sauce.
So it seems like situational irony that I'm awful at moving. This week Keith and I are packing up to move from Cincinnati to Cleveland. A move that I've said I wanted for ages, to be closer to my family.
And I do want it. And I think once we're there, I'll be happy. BUT I'm finally figuring out that, for as much as I like to travel, I'm really, really bad at saying good-bye to places. I get so attached to the everyday routine and even though it's my choice to move, I still feel uprooted and bereft when it occurs to me that I won't see that tree, or shop in that grocery store, or drive down that road anymore. I think even if I were to move a street over, this feeling of melancholy would still come over me about the stupidest things. "Remember how the bathroom door never locks, and you'd have to slam it shut? Those were the good days." So, in theory, I am super excited about the house and moving back to Cleveland and being near my family. But in reality, for this week at least, I think I'll be in mourning and I just need to accept it.
4 comments:
There are always scary aspects along with unforeseen pluses with moving. When you buy your own house you can find out for sure if there are any Trash Can Faeries. When you close a door you always look back at the door as you close it until the rear view is blocked and you turn around and move forward. Unless you slam it behind you. Which is a whole different departure. Love, Dad
I have the same problem. I am looking to move in the next month or so from my current apartment and I have grown really attached to it over the past few years. Even though I hate my landlord, the feeling of melancholy is there.
I think buying the house is scarier than actually moving. It's like, you can't decide on a whim to move anymore. It's all going to require much more consideration from now on. And you're a grown-up now.
Why do Trash Can Faeries sound so much more romantic than Trash Can Fairies? Must be the Middle English.
I don't think I slammed the door, but I have problems with the unknown future. I think we may be back, but a lot of that is out of my control, which, as a control freak, I have problems with.
Andy, how is the apartment hunt going? I think maybe our melancholy is again related to the unknown. It's easy to get annoyed with landlords and stupid neighbors, but when it comes time to make a change, the irritants you know may seem more appealing than the ones waiting for you ....
Yesterday we took out the trash cans for the last time!! And next week our neighbors will get screwed with all of our excessive moving trash. I'm smiling just picturing it now:)
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