Introspection of a Chronic Mover

Hello, my name is Sarah, and I have a problem with moving. That is, I move a lot. I am a child of IBM - a company that has been said to stand for "I've Been Moved", and in my dad's 20 years with the company, it is definitely a truthful assessment. When people ask me where I'm from, my answer almost always starts with an embarrassed laugh. New York is the place I came from first, but I don't remember it well enough, Colorado is the place with the fondest memories, but it's been almost a decade since I left, and New Jersey ... do people actually admit having lived there?

My dad was sent on temporary assignment to Colorado when I was 4, and we went with him. I don't remember living in Boulder, but my parents recall it with a sincere fondness, as if it were a golden era. The only thing I remember about moving to Colorado the first time is the stutter that the shock of moving left me with. We went back to NY, and shortly thereafter, moved back to Colorado. I vaguely remember this, but for me, life starts in that rose and brick house on 35th street. I was traumatized when we moved to New Jersey six years later. Eight years and many cheesesteaks later, I moved to Michigan. (See previous entry) One would think that I would be done with moving, but yet, I would do it again.

I am not terribly fond of moving. I feel like it jipped me in the friendship department. When I was little, I thought the greatest thing you could have was one half of those "best friend" necklaces. I wanted to be the recipient of one so badly. Most of the kids that I was closest to moved just far enough away that I didn't see them regularly. I did eventually receive a "best friends" necklace, though it was from someone whom I definitely didn't consider a best friend. I wonder if she just wanted a best friend like I did. When we moved, it was into an environment where not only did everyone already have their best friends, they'd had them since kindergarten, or something absurd. I was the odd one out, the one who didn't get the inside jokes, and was kinda forgotten about. It's not that I didn't have friends. It wasn't enough to have a best friend anymore - now they had "best friends for LIFE". Oh, I knew I was screwed. :) I wanted to be that one friend who got the phone calls when there was trouble or joy, the one whom you saw whenever life permitted, the one you went shopping with, who knew exactly what sorts of things you liked, that sort of thing. There were times when I thought I had that friend, but I never really did. So I've got this strange complex, even to this day. I've accepted that in moving, I'll never be able to say "we've been friends since fourth grade", and that almost everyone has a friend with whom they've been friends with for what feels like an eternity to me. Yet I confess, the little sixth grader in me cries out "Maybe they'll be my best friend!" when I meet someone. It's like part of me is still waiting for that "best friend" necklace. So the thought of moving and uprooting whatever progress I've made in friendship, partially abhors me, and I'm partially immune to it. It's an odd paradox.

I do confess though, in moving with such frequency, I've developed an antsy personality about living places. I can't imagine myself in one place for the rest of my life, knowing how things have developed and changed. Part of me likes to go and explore, and see new places. I like discovering what stores are awesome, what pizza places are the best, comparing the local cuisine to the places I've lived before. (Colorado has the best mexican food, New Jersey can't be topped in pizza and cheesesteaks.) I'm a closet moving freak. I hate change, but I love the adventure. My dad's uncle moved around quite a bit, and eventually found a wife in England. There is something so weirdly appealing about that.

They say to move around while you're young and nothing ties you down. That once you marry, you're done, because you have the responsibility of a spouse. I don't quite feel that way. I have my constant companion, someone to adventure with. If we have kids, I might feel differently, because I wouldn't want to move them around. They'd deserve a shot at having their own bff's. ;) But yet, I can't just move on a whim. I'd need a trail of licorice pointing the way to a new destination, a series of unmistakable doors and signs. But who knows what that means. Maybe I'm here forever. Maybe I'm not. But moving does do something interesting. It makes you think about what you really value.