Reposition

Lord knows that by this time I should be an expert at moving. I've called hotel rooms "home" and lived by the graciousness of spare bedrooms more times then I wish to recall. My baggage is travel worn and I'm sure that post offices and DMVs all over the mid-west rue the day my name appeared on their forms. But the truth is, moving is not systematic. In fact, the art of relocation is an awkward dance that will stretch your endurance as much as it stretches your relationships.

Nothing just fits. The doors and corners aren't wide enough, and all the stuff in my life doesn't fit into this new space like it did in the old. But this is the way of change. You decide to move to the next space: a new house, a new job, a new relationship, a new marriage. Nothing just fits. It is push and pull. Some things stay. Others, even though they still work, just don't fit anymore... and they have to be stored away until their day rises again, or they simply have to go. Forcing doesn't work. I mean sometimes you have to use something until you can replace it, but you can't kid yourself... it doesn't look good with the new surroundings. And if you are combining two lives into one space... forget about simple.

Simple is overrated. Two people moving into one space is about compromise... not simple. It's no longer about what I want or what they want, but what fits best in this new location. Even though I own just enough plastic tubs to pack my life neatly into boxes, and I do, it is not just me anymore. New spaces come with new challenges and new opinions. Even your friends feel the effects. "Can you help me move?" The sounding horn of change is met with silence, resistance, and spite if it happens too often. Nothing is simple.

Some things in my life are becoming staples that will survive the move with me, but leases are temporary and change is a much inevitable as it is not permanent. Every change, every move is slightly awkward, but it is our ability to adapt that will make or break us.