I hate this cycle. You know the one. Or, no, probably you don’t. It is somewhat unique.
“We’re moving!” Mom would announce––it happened regularly.
“We’re moving!” I’d tell my friends. I’d prepare for it. I’d separate myself, say goodbye, get ready to move on.
“We’re not moving!” Mom would announce later–this, too, happened regularly.
“We’re, um, not moving…” I’d mumble. It was embarrassing. It got worse.
I’d never again really feel like part of the community. It wasn’t her fault. But it sucked.
Right now, I still don’t have a buyer for my car.
Right now, I want to sell Frank.
Right now, I know that even if I get to keep him he’ll never be my baby, my independence, mine again.
My dad was military, so we had a lot of that going on as well. I understand. I’ve existed my entire life with one foot out the door the minute I arrive. It gets lonely.
It does.
The nice thing about it is that I really do know who my friends are. They’re the ones I don’t lose after I change zip codes.