Where You Lead

I will follow… 🎵

One morning when I was living in New York, a mystery box arrived. From the mailing label I saw it came from my mother. Surprised, I opened it to find a hodgepodge of papers and objects, a horrible ash tray I made in some class in middle school (back in the days when people smoked), and various bits and pieces of things I produced, mostly for my parents, when I was a child.

My favorite was more than one edition of a newspaper I decided to start when I was in elementary school. Even then I wanted to write! Reading it over with a critical eye, I can tell you…it wasn’t good. That nine-year-old really needed a good editor. I mean, how many times do you need to say the school fair was “fun”?  We get it already, move on.

Sitting on the floor of the living room in my Upper East Side fourth floor walk up, I found myself wondering what possessed my mother to send all this to me, so I called her. “We’re moving and getting rid of things”, she said, “so I sent it to you rather than throw it out.”

Growing up in a military family, moving regularly was a big part of my childhood. Sometimes it really hurt to leave behind friends and school, to go from the sunshine of San Diego, CA to the humidity of Jacksonville, FL. Then, just as you’ve come to enjoy living a block from the beach there, you pick up and move to a Washington, DC suburb with no beach in sight.

It wasn’t always easy to leave where we’d been, and it was even harder to assimilate once we arrived at our new station. Even so, it always felt like an exciting new adventure to me. I was with my family, the only people that really mattered to me, and there were days and days in the car on the road, seeing new sights as we passed through, and motels with fabulously cool pools after the hot car. And along the route, we found every Stuckey’s restaurant and bought more of their eponymous fudge.

When it came to moving, my mother was a pro.  A true military wife.  Once, there were orders for a new assignment, she launched “operation family transfer” and got things done: boxes packed, schools notified, living quarters acquired. It always involved letting go of things she deemed unnecessary.  

After all, there’s no need to drag the past along with you.

Even after my dad retired from the military, my parents still moved around, and my mother took every opportunity to purge.  Hence, sending a box to New York.

Not going to lie, I was a little hurt that she no longer wanted to house my childhood offerings. I suppose since I was in my thirties at the time, she was done hauling that part of the past around. Time to grow up.

Both of my horses have moved around a bit. Trudy from Tennessee to California, and then moving to three different barns with me until we found the right one.  And Ty all the way from the Netherlands on a plane, in the equine version of first class (meals and flight attendants included but no champagne). With every move there is an adjustment, and it can be traumatizing to a horse who can’t understand everything that is going on. But they both came through it like champs. It was impressive to see how quickly they adapted and settled in.

Of course, they didn’t have to do much really except, as my trainer tells me at horse shows where I’m not competing, “just stand around and look pretty”. No reams of paperwork to sign, no utilities to transfer, no landlords to haggle with. They didn’t have to pack any boxes or get quotes from movers. They didn’t have to cough up a ridiculous amount of their own money. They just had to show up, be a little patient, and eat some cookies. The looking pretty part is a given.

I attribute some of my own wanderlust as an adult to my upbringing as a military brat.  Not only did I go into the military myself and was stationed in Texas, Mississippi, Germany and finally California, but after I separated I continued to travel and explore and would pick up and move at regular intervals.  Sometimes just to a new apartment, sometimes across the country. Or I would use the city I was living in as a jumping off point to travel the world. I hit six of the seven continents (I’m looking at you, Antarctica) and made a point not to go to the same place twice.

Whenever the stress of life would start mounting, I’d look at a map and figure out where I’d yet to visit and start making plans.  Or maybe start looking for a new job, or a new place to live.  When I felt stuck or things felt problematic, I moved.

The thing is you can’t outrun your hurt. As they say, no matter where you go, you take the weather with you.

Eventually there comes a point when you realize you’re staying put. That point comes when you have two horses who have traveled to be with you, and a dog who has had enough moving around. Somehow you’ve all landed in So Cal and built a life together. And then, almost by chance, you find a house that you love so you make it yours and call it your forever home.

I am officially, for the first time, a “homeowner”. That feels like a very grown-up thing to write.

Despite the many times I’ve moved in my life, let me be clear:  I am not my mother. I intend to purge but find it tricky. There is so much that needs to be looked at. I get overwhelmed at the thought of going through it all and my little head eventually just explodes.

I’m lucky to have some competent, willing, and maybe a tad controlling (said with love) people in my life who have swooped in to help shake me out of my stupor.

After all these years I’ve learned something about moving: In the grand scheme of things, geography doesn’t really mean much.

Just because you change location, doesn’t mean you’re evolving or growing. And if you stop and stand still, your real journey hasn’t come to an end.

In the stopping and stillness may be where the real growth begins.

Also, good friends are essential. You need to bring them with you somehow, even if they aren’t accompanying you on the physical journey. Tuck them away in your heart and put a little work into maintaining those relationships. They really matter.

Even as I’m squeezing by and trying to dodge the hundreds of boxes nearly crowding me out of my new house, I’m finally able to relax a little bit.  

I’ve really got plenty of time to unpack, now that I’m home.