Moving Day

Trey Smith

Yesterday, a family across the way moved out. They rented a 26 foot U-Haul truck and hired some local guys to do the work. The family had lived in South Bend for a bit less than one year and the wife, in particular, hated it. She's a big city gal who is overjoyed that the family is moving back to the Olympia area.

Yet, for all her excitement at leaving this one-horse town, there was some melancholy too. She lingered in the driveway of her rented home and it seemed to take all of her inner strength to pull the car away from the curb to drive off toward her new life.

I can certainly understand her mixed emotions.

In our early years together, it seems that Della and I moved about every two years. Sometimes, it was merely across town. At other times, it was across a state or even out of it. We both have a bit of wanderlust in us and we liked the adventure of moving somewhere new.

But it always was a double-edged sword for me. While part of me likes new, another part of me clings desperately to the old. There were a few houses or towns we lived in that I simply didn't like that well. When we decided to pull up our stakes and head on down the road, I struggled with saying goodbye.

My wife often calls me a sentimental fool (in a loving way) and I always get very emotional leaving, even when it's from a place I want to leave behind! The reason for this is due to my autistic need for sameness. Even when unhappy, I have my patterns that I must follow and each move upsets these patterns tremendously.

And so, each time we were set to leave an abode behind, my wife quickly learned that she needed to allow me time alone in the structure so that I could have a good cry. I would walk from room-to-room to say goodbye to all the inanimate objects (e.g., walls, windows, door, cupboards, etc.) that I, most likely, will never see again. If we had much of a backyard, I would sit on the back steps one last time to say my farewells to the plants and critters.

At some juncture, my wife would convince me it was time to go and, with one last mournful glance, we would be off on the next adventure. While Della would be filled with excitement about our next stop, I spent most of the time in transit brooding about the home left behind.

As we've grown older, the wanderlust bug has diminished greatly. Oh, there are times when we dream of winning a big lottery and buying a nice oceanfront home in Long Beach (southern Pacific County) or Yachats, Oregon, but those are just idle pipe dreams! For the most part, we are happy where we are and hope to live out our final years in this one spot.