We move often…far too often, in fact. Some of my friends and even extended family have a hard time keeping up with which state we’re in at any given time. I have tried to compensate for my frequent up-rootings by becoming less social, going on fewer lunch dates, and generally holding myself back from others a bit more than is natural for me.
But sometimes I just can’t help myself. I meet these wonderful people, and I want to love them. And that gets me in trouble.
Tonight I’m a little sad. Yes, we are on our way to a great new assignment for Hubby and a lovely area of the country. Yes, I am excited about being closer to my family, being done with a couple of writing projects for other people and having more time to focus on my own creative work, and homeschooling my son in the fall. I can’t wait to meet a new, like-minded friend I have connected with online who has already very kindly invited us to come over to dinner when we get settled. I am looking forward to exploring Nashville. And I am ecstatic about living within easy driving distance of a Whole Foods and multiple wonderful farmer’s markets.
But I’m leaving behind a pretty great little farmer’s market, with people I have come to know and love over the past year. I got a couple of hugs from one person in particular (if you’re reading this you know who you are) that brought tears to my eyes. I got kind hugs and handshakes from my Mennonite friends, who said they would miss me and hope I find a great farmer’s market where I’m going. I was wished best of luck and given condolences on my horrible week this week by another farmer’s market friend who, to my surprise, has been keeping up with my Facebook updates and was concerned.
I went to pick up used moving boxes for the second time from a new acquaintance who just moved here, and with whom, while chatting over breaking down cardboard, I discovered I have a very great deal in common. This person and I probably will not keep in touch…it’s one of those potential friendships just barely missed through bad timing. I then had lunch at our favorite Mexican restaurant, and because I didn’t have Hubby and Little Guy with me, was asked to “please come again once more before moving!” by the owner, who loves Little Guy and is always happy to see him. After lunch, I went to the commissary to pick up a few groceries and ran into a librarian friend, who was horrified to find out I was leaving and, much to my surprise, gave me a giant hug right in the middle of the store. And while still in the commissary, I was greeted by the owner of Hubby’s and my favorite little Korean lunch spot, who insisted that we come for lunch “one more time” so she could tell us good bye.
And finally, I had a sweet phone call from a very good friend with whom I’ve only really connected in the last few months. I wish I had met her earlier. She called to ask if our bad week had gotten better, and has already offered a couple of times to help if we need anything during our transition period. I’m hoping to see her at least one more time before we leave.
And tomorrow we go to church, for the next-to-last time, to see some of the people who have made us feel most at home here and have been incredibly loving and supportive of all of us.
Yes…I try not to put down roots. Every time we move, I tell myself, “Don’t make too many friends. Don’t get too close to anyone. Don’t fall in love with this place.” But every time, I find so many people to love and so many beautiful things that I can’t help opening up.
And now I’m crying, again.