Many lifetimes ago, I must have been a wanderer or a gypsy. The thought of staying in one place never seems to appeal to me. It’s my fight with me.
A part of me is so tired of moving from place to place and starting all over again. Another me, finds the whole prospect so very adventurous. I remember the last time I shifted apartment I had promised to myself never to move for another 10 years. I would probably have begged the owner to let me stay on if they would have wanted to get rid of me.
It’s not even a full year. I am already thinking on short term and long term relocation plans. My short term plan involves a little house with a lawn/garden and a terrace. One where my babies can run around and play. One where we can set a huge plastic pool to splash around in summer and laze in the sun during the few winter days.
My long term plans involve scooting from this very country to go see some other part of the world. I even have some places in mind. I just don’t know where to start. It’s a lot of planning and a lot of work. Mainly now, when we have to move with a lot more than just ourselves.
My family would be shattered to know how much of a hurry I am in. They know me. Hence, they are expecting to hear about our move sometime in the future. I am sure they are even keeping their fingers crossed and hoping against hopes that we may decide to return home.
But that is not to be. Some unknown place beckons. This time it’s not just for the 2 of us that we need to think about. We need to think of a family place where the whole family can start again and learn to be happy together.