Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Why I Live Where I Live

by Linda Robertson

Why? Because all my stuff is here.

I just bought a house and moved all my stuff and all my kids’ stuff. Moving is…unpleasant…and yet it’s also fulfilling. It’s literal, physical MOVEMENT in one’s life, for good or bad, and that motion can’t be ignored.

For me, it’s been an emotionally mixed occurrence. Looking back, I made things happen. That’s nicely empowering…but grown-up choices have grown-up consequences. Looking around me, I see this huge investment that I’m now responsible for. Me. It’s heavy.

There were moments during the move when it felt like my decision was just shuffling people around like pieces on a chess board. There were moments when it felt so incredibly overwhelming that the tears came whether I wanted them to or not. Watching my life, in neat little taped-up boxes, load onto a truck was sad. There’s a goodbye involved and goodbyes are never easy.

Watching those same boxes unload should have been completely a happy-hello kind of thing—but then the boxes kept coming, kept stacking up and they loomed over me until all these cardboard cubes represented not the organized compartmentalization I thought they did, but the random panic and chaos I felt inside as I wondered if I’d ever be able to unpack all of this stuff—why do I have all this crap?—where will it all go?—have I made the right choice?—are my shoulders strong enough to bear this responsibility? Yeah. Scary.

I’m lucky; there was always a friend or two there to put an arm around my shoulder and tell me it would be okay. Did I mention I have the absolute best friends? They helped me move. Awesome, awesome people. (You know who you are. THANK YOU!)

So, nearly eight weeks later, I’m all moved in.

It’s familiar to me, always has been. You see, my parents lived here when I was born. My father took me for walks in the woods where I had to hug all the trees. I know every tree in the woodland here. I played and tromped this ground for years. I learned to walk here. I learned to ride a bike here. I buried numerous dead goldfish in the woods. I tried to ice skate on frozen puddles in the driveway here. I learned to play guitar here.

I grew up here. Now, this is MY personal piece of this unique little orb in space that we call Earth.

It’s home. That’s why I live here.



  1. A tree-hugging, puddle-skating, Fender-riffing home. With a secret castle. Sounds utterly awesome.

    As many times as I've moved, I've learned to pack a house in a day, but unpacking is still the woooooorst.

  2. See - I hate packing, but I always loved unpacking. All new decisions about where to put things. Creating a home out of an empty house.

  3. This is a great post, Linda! It's so hard to find a place (at least for me) that feels like "home"--I'm glad to hear that you have found it and are all settled in!

  4. I love the life motion created by moving, how it makes you evaluate and reassess. It's cleansing.