Another gratuitous childhood photo to replace the one that I don't have for this post. It's moving time again, at least as far as we are on the list, but for this move I'm on my own. About a month after graduation, maybe even less, my family packed my very tiny world along with additional furniture and drove me three hours south to Savannah. My parents bought a house and our deal was that I got to feel cooler and more responsible than I actually was, find and collect rent from roommates, and make sure the roof didn't pick itself up and run away, and my parents got a break from me whining about my fear of sharing a bathroom (WITH OTHER PEOPLE) in a dorm.
But, this is more about the move than the house, and the move was quite an experience. My parents dropped me off and left same day, something I'm sure I swore I was happy with at the time, though I cried the tears of a teenager that night, no matter how old I was trying to be. It was late summer in Savannah and the heat was melting the trees. Unfortunately, the air conditioning wasn't working and the repairman was unavailable immediately, so I spent my days circling the mall, round and round again in the overly cool air. I didn't know anyone in the city and because school hadn't started and my first roommate hadn't moved to town, I fluctuated, minute by minute, between excitement, confusion, and sheer terror. There was no one to call into the room when the GIANT palmetto bugs flew at the wall and then at my head, no one to check on the thud from the next room, no one to come get me when I got lost trying to find a new shop.
But, but...I learned to do more on my own, made my own little home, called my very patient mother a thousand times a week, listened to her, took her advice (sometimes).
There's still another big move to come, one that felt a lot like this one did - frightening and exhilarating, the kind of change that makes you feel like the biggest little kid you know.