Who would have thought that in just three and a half years, what felt like a lifetime would soon end? We have our orders. No more guessing, wishful thinking, and dreaming of the possibilities of what could be. They are in my hands; now it is time to plan for real. Time to move. Time to pack. Time to fly. I have been mentally preparing for this day over the last few months. Slowly distancing myself from friends and neighbors like I always do. Like I am trying to minimize the timebomb of separation that causes so much damage to my heart each time we leave.
Why do I feel the need to be distant, cold, perhaps even uncaring when it's time to go? As if my distance now could make hearts feel less sad, less pain, less empty. I try to tell myself not to do it, but it kicks in when I'm not vigilant. I've been moving from place to place since I was a kid, and I can't find that healthy balance of long-distance friendships. I am still cheering for everyone I ever had the pleasure of knowing, but I can't seem to bring myself to stay connected other than scrolling social media and seeing their highlights; that makes me so happy for them.
Am I the only one that does this or feels this way? Do you cling to the past and carry that hole made by someone important no longer part of your everyday life or are you normal and just pick up the damn phone and call them to talk about nothing and everything? Helping each other get through life when the kids are young when it can feel so lonely. Maybe you are not ready for the change and are in denial that you moved even while sitting in a new living room surrounded by boxes. Change is hard. The sorting, the cleaning, the packing and unpacking, the question of whether this will fit at the new house…
I remember how exciting every move felt when I was young—a chance to reinvent myself, to start fresh, to seek new opportunities, and to meet interesting people. The older I get, the harder it is to start over and make new friends in a new place. I was lucky this time to have met such kind neighbors who have treated me like I have known them all my life. I will miss them when we move. Miss popping over for a chat, having a glass of wine and whining about kids, or getting a surprise delivery of a tasty treat.
I am drawn to wondering if the kids will be okay and if they will like the new school, new state, and new house. I've been told kids are more resilient, but move after move wears on you. I know; I was a military brat, too. I loved it then, but I am so tired now. After 30+ years of moving, you would think I would be a pro at this. My soul longs for the stability of a single home where my children can grow and always come back to. I want to plant flowers and be there to see them bloom.
I wrote this in anticipation of orders that were supposed to drop by the end of March, but in true hurry-up-and-wait fashion, it is officially April, and still no orders… That is military life for you.