From One Place to Another
It’s crazy to think that a person’s life can fit into a box. Everything imaginable can be stacked inside a carton. Pictures, clothes, books, equipment, pots and pans, shoes, decorations, and anything else could pretty much fit into a cube made of paper. The memories of people are thrown inside and closed up to make a move final. Everything that makes a person whom they are is closed up and ready to begin a new journey.
In my short life I have made many journeys. Growing up my family and I needed to move a lot due to my fathers job. Of course at that young age I was mostly required to pack my own things. I was responsible for only a little portion of what made my life the way it was. I packed my clothes, toys, and books. I was not always expected to help pack anything else. On occasion I would help my mother out with my younger siblings things. I would help pack their clothes, toys, and other small things.
Packing everything in our home always seemed like such a hassle. I recall my mother stressing out over having to pack up once again. Having a big family and needed to move so much took a heavy toll on my mothers shoulders. She always seemed to leave something behind whether she liked it or not. Most of this was my father’s fault since he was less likely to double check drawers and cabinets before heading to our new home. I think that we have abandoned quite a few pots and pans, comforters and bed sheets, and shoes and hand bags all thanks to my father.
Both my parents had a lot to do when we moved. My mother was in charge of packing everything into boxes. My father was the one who picked up the boxes and shoved them in the moving truck. My siblings and I had it easy and although we hated moving form place to place, I believe we all had a sense of freedom when it came to packing up. I would say that for the most part I was always depressed when it came to moving. I never seemed to get used to always having to pack up and go somewhere new.
This trend of ours finally came to an end once I started junior high school. My father decided to stay in Kansas and rent out first “real” house. It was considered to be our first real home because it had been one my dad chose. It wasn’t one his company had found and sent us to without ever seeing it. This house my father was able to take a tour before signing the leasing contract. To everyone’s excitement we were finally going to stay put.
That of course didn’t happen until a few years later when my father bought his first home. We had to move one last time, but that didn’t matter since we were moving into our new and last home. Although I’ve moved out on my own now, I still consider that house my true home. My parents, older brother, and youngest sister still live at the house. I love to visit and spend time surrounded by the walls that protected me all through my teenage and young adult life. Now I have moved out on my own twice. First when I moved out of my family home to be on my own for the first time. It wasn’t too bad because I moved out with two of my siblings.
That first move was easy because all I had to take with my was my bed, clothes, and books. Once we were all moved in we began to buy all the other necessities. We bought sofas, dishes, bathroom essentials, frames, a television, bed sheets, tables, and many more things. Over our first year we collected things and soon our apartment reflected a small version of the home we once lived in. When we were finally settled down and living on our own, it was time to move once again. My brother took a job in Texas and my sister and I were left to find another place for the two of us.
We picked a place and packed up like we had done many times before. This time however we found that moving was a lot more stressful than when we were kids. We had to pack of everything on our own. We weren’t just packing our clothes and toys now. We had to pack everything on our kitchen, bathrooms, living room, and our own rooms. We had so much more to pack up and move. It was a difficult move, but thanks to the help of family we succeeded. Our new apartment has been a warm home for almost three years now. Yet, we find ourselves packing all over again.
After so many years at the place where we are at now, we have found it time to go. The complex isn’t what it used to be. We have always been good tenants and now we don’t feel as welcomed as before. The office staff has changed drastically and it’s difficult communicate with them. The apartment is still a warm and great place to come home to, yet our neighbors aren’t as warm. For those reasons and many more we have decided to move out. So we have begun the familiar ritual of packing and closing up boxes. We know that our new place won’t be perfect, nothing is perfect, but we are ready for a new change. Our lives will fit into boxes, we will stack things, close those boxes, and move on to our next journey.
