"Mom, when are we going to move?"
It's become a very common question around this house in the last couple of months. My girls were born to move. It's in their blood. My oldest has lived in seven different homes and her sister has lived in 6. So now, as we approach the 18 month mark in this home, longer than any other in my children's living memory, they want to know why things aren't changing yet.
And you know, as I think about it, I'm right there with them. When are we going to move? It is a neither financially or logically sound idea, but I find myself wondering the same thing. Maybe it comes from moving almost every other year for the past 10.
I have always thought that I didn't like change. That I didn't respond to it well. And even as I think about it, the thought of physically moving just sends shivers down my spine. But deep down I have a strange wanderlust that won't be satisfied until I find a new dwelling to make my own.
My husband wonders about this. He doesn't understand it. And I tell him, I just want to be in THE house. You know. The ONE. The one where we will spend the rest of our lives. The one our children will move out of. Where our grandchildren will come to visit. We will be settled and not have to worry about the color of paint affecting the retail value. (Does purple really do that?) We can do, pretty much what ever we want and we can take our time doing it, because really, we're going to live here forever, right?
But then I start to wonder. . . How will I know when I have found that house? And when I do will this indefatigable wanderlust leave me? And moreover, do I want it to?
I guess for now I'll just have to keep wondering. And fending off the moving question, until I have a better answer to give than "I don't know."