Moving in General

My father was in the military so as a child I moved a lot. My mother packed everything and then the movers came, and then there was always a period where we lived on base furniture loaned to us. Fake leather sofas with wooden arms from the 50s. The movers in Turkey insisted we provide beer, and the customs agents counted all our electronics to make sure we didn't leave any behind. When we arrived at our next destination, always ahead of our things, we usually took a rental property 'on the economy' until base housing could be arranged. So really, every time we moved, we moved twice.

Moving as an adult is different, for me, in many ways. I moved out of my parents' house at 24, and down the road 5 miles. Crammed my furniture into the tiniest room in the 3 bedroom condo my friends and I rented. After that I moved around my city 6 times. Paring down the books at one stop. Then adding to them at the next. Each move has taught me something about material possessions, but wasn't really a MOVE in the sense that I didn't say goodbye to anyone.

This move, to Montreal, is like the long exhalation after far too many years waiting. When I was a child I spent some time settling in and then some time waiting to move. Everywhere I was had a time limit on it. Everyone I met was just a temporary friend. Still, wondering where we would be next, who we would next meet, was exciting to think about. I got used to it. Then my father retired and we stayed in one place, and stayed and stayed. As a teenager, as a twentysomething, I just stayed. Waiting.

I grew to dislike the place I lived, Charlotte, North Carolina. U-S-fucking-A. I tread carefully because southerners are a touchy lot, and I hate offending people. Or, at least I did before I moved there. There were times when my very presence offended those I had to share an elevator with, or a supermarket. So fuck them.

I will leave off that topic for another blog post. One about southerners. Because there are--true of all demographics--good and bad in all, and in all, there are those who are good, and those who are bad.

Moving, I suppose, is a time for reflection and anticipation. My reflections will be upon the place I lived but never called home; the anticipation is in what I will find waiting for me in this new place. I am bringing my best friend, my dog, my guitars, my notebooks. . . and myself. Discovery awaits.