Another Year, Another Move

Sorry for the continued lack of posts. Too many things to do and not enough time.

One of those things was the annual (and it seems perennial) change of residence of an offspring. Those of you who are parents of young adults may know of what I speak. This is our daughters fifth move in four years! Before her came her two older brothers. Our older son we helped move seven times and his younger brother has been the easiest because he 1) lived in one location for most of college and 2) had lots of friends to call on to help with his moving. However, to make up for that I do recall the grueling two days we spent helping with the move-out cleaning of the big house he had lived in for four years. He was the last of the roommates to leave and got stuck with the deed. Mom and Dad to the rescue.

Apartment Therapy

Moving day in a college town usually means that half or more of the other students are also moving at the same time. Trying to jockey for a close parking space, maneuver around trucks and trailers, wait for an available elevator and exchange empathetic looks with other parents in the same situation is all part of the annual ritual. It's always hot and usually humid. The neighborhoods near the university start to take on the look of a landfill with all the garbage and possessions piled on the curbs. You're never quite sure if the piles on the curb are someone's things waiting to be loaded or discarded items. It all looks pretty much the same.

Hand in hand with the moving is the stuff that always seems to end up back at home. Maybe a roommate has a duplicate item so something will come home to be stored. Or they move into a smaller apartment and can't fit everything in. We've had our garage half full of a kid's belongings at times! Boxes in the basement. Boxes on the back porch, under the beds, in the closets. Boxes that somehow never leave, even years after college graduation. That's all in addition to the childhood mementoes that are too precious to them to ever be gotten rid of. I used to think when the kids left we'd gain space. Instead we end up with more stuff and less space.

Today I'm letting my feet and muscles rest and am basking in the contentment of knowing that the next move won't be for another year. Maybe. Our daughter did say she'd love to land an internship in New York next spring, which means we could be moving her half way across the country instead of half a mile down the road. And son #1 is getting married and may be buying a house. My mother talks about moving out of her house into something smaller. I guess we can't get rid of our "moving van" just yet.

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