Moving… again.
I should feel more excited about moving, I know. New York! Since leaving the city five years ago, I’ve been itching to go back, throwing not-so-subtle hints in my husband’s direction. But now that we’re actually moving, I feel torn. Perhaps my reluctance to do with the moving process more so than the move itself. I’ve become an expert mover, having done the deed four times in the past four years, but it still feels overwhelming to weed through the clutter, purge the non-essentials, and relocate to yet another city.
But there’s something else going on as well. Call it a case of “the grass is always greener,” but sometimes it takes moving away to appreciate what you have–like miles and miles of trails steps from my backyard, and, well, an actual backyard with lounge chairs and a grill and room to run around (even if we have faux grass instead of the real stuff).
Today, as I threw out piles of paper and old magazine issues, listed unwanted items on eBay and boxed up unworn clothes for Goodwill, the move started to feel real. And I realized that I am going to miss Las Vegas and the sprawling beigeness of its suburbs.
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