Moved by moving

Since 2001, I have moved 4 times and am about to move once again. Initially, I get really excited about it; planning the logistics, picturing myself in the new surroundings, and beginning a new chapter in my life. All very nice things. But as I get closer to the move itself, I begin to feel the same way when one stares up at the night sky full of stars.

When you move, you're forced to put all your belongings in boxes, inventory and number them. You get rid of things that you couldn't even remember getting in the first place. You have to make "life or death" decisions about objects and belongings; do they continue to live with you or have they given all they have. Your stuff shrinks and fits in boxes. It then gets loaded up into a truck and pulls away.

Does my life really fit in a U-Haul? Is that all I have to show for myself? That feeling lasts only for a couple of hours or beers, whichever comes first. I soon remind myself that the stuff needs to get un-packed at the other end. Oh boy! I hate unpacking.