A Moving Story

 Jason and I have lived in our current house 19 months.  This is the longest we’ve lived anywhere together.  This is the longest either of us has lived anywhere. Ever since I left home at 18 and he moved away to college when he was 20 we have been drifters.  When I think about the number of places we have lived, I am always amazed that our nomadic paths crossed. 

Every time we move Jason promises himself, “This is last time.  We are staying here.”  These words scared my wondering spirit the first time he said them.  But, he soon forgets the pain (like childbirth) and we never stay put. 

When I was four my Daddy got out of the Air Force and we moved to Charleston.  My Mama got a great deal on a handyman’s special (read: house that was about to fall down) and I spent the next 14 years growing up in the house on Lindberg St.  The house spent the next 14 years being transformed room by room.  Thankfully my Daddy is a “handyman” and he completely made over the house, little by little.  It makes me think of that Miranda Lambert song, “The House that Built Me.”  I remember getting my first bike when I was six and learning to ride it.  I remember reading for hours in my bedroom and falling in love with words. And just like the song, there’s a dog buried in the back yard.

Ok, so we are moving again.  But we are moving into the house on Lindberg St.  Kind of a funny thing for me to wrap my head around.  This time moving forward is moving back.  The usual unknown is being replaced by the familiar.

 I have to say I’m excited.  It’s a great yard for a little boy.  Perfect for playing catch and learning how to ride a bike.

I’m looking forward to leaving the hospital in late march and bringing my new baby to the only place I’ve ever thought of as “home.”     

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