D3 and I just bought a house in Bellingham. We are moving to the first residence that he and I will own together as married people. We have been in our little 806 square foot condo in Seattle for two years. The Seattle Condo is perfect, 2 blocks from the new transit center, next to I-5, a mall and movie theaters in walking distance. Maple leaf is a perfect neighborhood. This is a dream place for anyone wanting to be in Seattle. It is the only place I would want to live in Seattle.
However, I have been in Seattle 30 years and I cannot get over how it has changed. All the neighborhoods I have at one point or another lived in, are now very different. I was up on Capitol Hill, where my first apartment was, and I cannot find a single place that is still there that was there when I lived there. It is like my memories have been washed away. I think The Deluxe Burger is still there. That was the first place we ate in Seattle when we first arrived. But is is very different.
For me, 30 years is a long time to be in one city. But things change. I know that is the way of things. I also know that at 54 I am getting to a place where change is harder and harder. Like my stiff morning knees, my ability to change is slow, and needs to warm up. I am ready to live somewhere that is slower, and gentler, and just a bit flatter (did I mention my stiff knees?)
So D3 and I are buying a house in a smaller city, near the Canadian Border, that is a block from the water, and is 3 times as big as the place we are in now.
Last night D3 had a moving meltdown. I have seen them before. When I went to Scotland before we were married, I helped him get his stuff organized to move to Seattle. We joke that his move was just 6 boxes. But in reality it was 5 visits to and from Scotland with big empty bags, we even made the Best Man at our wedding carry some of D3’s stuff over. This last visit to Scotland we got the end of the stuff that he had left in Scotland. I have seen D3 hit the numb, overwhelmed, middle distance stare before. We packed about 8 boxes yesterday and he had to stop and nap between every 3.
This is where I am the best marriage partner ever. I have, in my life, moved 38 times. 38! Thirty Eight! Three- Eight! AND I have been in this condo for 6 years, and the house before this, 8 years. So if you do the math it is about once a year. A few times more than once a year (5 is the most), and I have been in 3 places for 2 years. This does not include the years of travel when my home was my backpack.
When I was a kid my dad would come home on Thursday night and say we were moving Saturday. I would spend that evening putting as much as I could into my dresser and the two boxes we were allotted to pack. I spent the next day at school packing my desk and saying goodbye. Then I got up Saturday to a quick breakfast and moving. Saturday night as soon as we were in the new place with out beds made, we stopped for Kentucky Fried Chicken. Sunday was spent unpacking. Monday, new school.
This summer we put new floors in the condo, so we had to pack everything into a storage unit. (Oh, if I had only known, I never would have unpacked.) And now, between Thanksgiving and Christmas we are moving again.
It is the end of this world as we know it, and I feel fine.
P.S. we need boxes.