I realized after publishing the last post, I realized I have more to say about change. Many folks I have spoken to talk about the phases of a relocation – or phases of change. As with any period of transition, there are great moments, and moments of, “oh crap, why did we do this again?” and I had a really hard day earlier this month when I felt completely overwhelmed and started to really doubt that I had made the right choice for our family by moving so far. It has prompted me to really consider what “home” means.
My parents are in the process of moving out to the Pacific Northwest to be closer to us, which is amazing, and it will be so wonderful to have that support, but in doing so they are selling the home I grew up in and that my parents have been in for over 40 years. Now even though I haven’t lived there in 20 years, it has still felt like a loss of something. I haven’t been able to articulate exactly what. I have my memories, I am not living there and have no plans to ever do so again. Yet, I still feel sorrow to lose the first place I considered home.
My parents phone number was just disconnected this week, and my father told me had had the same number since 1964. That was astounding to me. A a teenager, I literally had a rotary phone to call my friends. I also now realize that with cell phones – I don’t actually know my parents cell numbers, nor their new house number – because its programmed in to my phone – not stored in my memory.
It’s funny how attached I feel to a phone number – and what other things that are ending are bringing up nostalgic responses. I’d love to hear your experiences.