Moving right along...
When I was six, my mother, father, older brother, younger sister and I moved.
I remember the house on 138 so clearly. I can draw a pretty accurate floor plan of it when I put my mind to it. For the first 6 years of my life, it was my life. My playroom, my world, my universe. I made up stories to entertain my sister and created fantastic worlds of make believe. Our closet was a hideout...a pirate cave, a hidden fort, an invisible room where our characters could come to life. We brought our imaginations outside, to the woodpile, the lawn, the forest behind the house, the path to Nana’s. We would run over to see her multiple times a day. In the twilight, we’d look out for the bats that came out to hunt. We peeked through the trees at the spooky run down house that lay in a think tangle of overgrowth next door. We smashed crabapples with sticks, built “tree-houses” in the wood, learned to ride our bikes on the smooth grassy slope of our back yard.
It was idyllic. And yet, when the time came for us to move, I didn’t feel an overwhelming sadness, primarily because of one thing. In the new house, one town away, I would have my very own room.
So it was that moving became a glorious adventure. I remember absolutely nothing of packing. I remember the truck though. And here is the major difference between then and now. I got to ride in the back of the moving truck. And it was the coolest, most exciting thing I’d ever done. The dim light inside, the last boxes strapped to the sides of the truck. I was a hobo, an adventurer. A stowaway on a huge ship. My six-year-old imagination went wild. Time stood still as my caravan rumbled out and off to adventure.
I didn’t move again until I was 18. Then I moved again at 19, and at 20, 3 times when I was 21, a few more times between ages 22 and 35, until I found myself pretty much back where I started, here in Massachusetts. But the first time I moved was magical. Perhaps everything is magical when you are six. Time moved so slowly. You could bask in your daydreams.
Now I am nearing forty, and this year, I will move again. This time is another first for me. All the other moves I’ve ever had were from rental to rental. Now, we will be moving to a house. Our house.
I’ve never even tried to buy a house. It made no sense, for my lifestyle. But now, in this year of mammoth change, I find myself poring over our finances, navigating a neighborhood eight hours away to try to divine which streets would be the best to try for, learning about points and financing and mortgages and insurance and and and...
When I was renting, I maintained an illusion that I still was, in some slight way, a child. Now I feel like the last vestiges of that childishness are evaporating with each new aspect of home buying I confront. I have to be practical. I have to be diligent. I have to keep my feet on the ground. I have to be the epitome of every grownup cliche you can think of.
Life was so much more pleasant when the moving van was simply a caravan, and my biggest worry was that the ride would be over all too soon.
I remember the house on 138 so clearly. I can draw a pretty accurate floor plan of it when I put my mind to it. For the first 6 years of my life, it was my life. My playroom, my world, my universe. I made up stories to entertain my sister and created fantastic worlds of make believe. Our closet was a hideout...a pirate cave, a hidden fort, an invisible room where our characters could come to life. We brought our imaginations outside, to the woodpile, the lawn, the forest behind the house, the path to Nana’s. We would run over to see her multiple times a day. In the twilight, we’d look out for the bats that came out to hunt. We peeked through the trees at the spooky run down house that lay in a think tangle of overgrowth next door. We smashed crabapples with sticks, built “tree-houses” in the wood, learned to ride our bikes on the smooth grassy slope of our back yard.
It was idyllic. And yet, when the time came for us to move, I didn’t feel an overwhelming sadness, primarily because of one thing. In the new house, one town away, I would have my very own room.
So it was that moving became a glorious adventure. I remember absolutely nothing of packing. I remember the truck though. And here is the major difference between then and now. I got to ride in the back of the moving truck. And it was the coolest, most exciting thing I’d ever done. The dim light inside, the last boxes strapped to the sides of the truck. I was a hobo, an adventurer. A stowaway on a huge ship. My six-year-old imagination went wild. Time stood still as my caravan rumbled out and off to adventure.
I didn’t move again until I was 18. Then I moved again at 19, and at 20, 3 times when I was 21, a few more times between ages 22 and 35, until I found myself pretty much back where I started, here in Massachusetts. But the first time I moved was magical. Perhaps everything is magical when you are six. Time moved so slowly. You could bask in your daydreams.
Now I am nearing forty, and this year, I will move again. This time is another first for me. All the other moves I’ve ever had were from rental to rental. Now, we will be moving to a house. Our house.
I’ve never even tried to buy a house. It made no sense, for my lifestyle. But now, in this year of mammoth change, I find myself poring over our finances, navigating a neighborhood eight hours away to try to divine which streets would be the best to try for, learning about points and financing and mortgages and insurance and and and...
When I was renting, I maintained an illusion that I still was, in some slight way, a child. Now I feel like the last vestiges of that childishness are evaporating with each new aspect of home buying I confront. I have to be practical. I have to be diligent. I have to keep my feet on the ground. I have to be the epitome of every grownup cliche you can think of.
Life was so much more pleasant when the moving van was simply a caravan, and my biggest worry was that the ride would be over all too soon.
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And may the walls bare witness to great love and laughter...
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