Whoever said that moving is for the birds apparently never had to empty out closets, weed through years of stuff, and pack it all in boxes, making sure to label each box, in preparation for getting the house ready to put up for sale.
If I were a bird, all I'd need to do is fly away to my chosen destination. Then, if I were a bluebird, all I need do is move into the house that some kindly human built for me. I could live rent free or mortgage free until I decided it was time to fly away.
Just think, if I were a bird, I wouldn't need to worry about getting a post office box, or notifying the insurance company, or bank, or all the other necessary places of my new address. There would be no need to register my vehicles in my new state, because if I were a bird, I wouldn't need a car tag. If I were a bird, I wouldn't have to worry about finding new doctors or transferring our prescriptions to a new pharmacy.
Don't get me started on unpacking all those boxes, and then trying to find closet space or cabinet space for all the stuff that I've considered necessary. You know, stuff like dinnerware, eating utensiles, cookware, clothes.
If I were a bird, all I'd need do is flitter about to find a few twigs and leaves to make my nest, then settle down to rest. But, I'm not a bird, so I need to shuffle through dozens and dozens of cardboard boxes to find the ones labeled: bed linens, pillows, blankets and quilts.
Why am I moving--you ask? Sometimes, when we make decisions our heart is in the right place, but we forgot to listen to our brain. In my case, I should have listened to my brain. Our daughter wanted her dad and I to move closer to her. We were getting older, she said. Let me take care of you, she said.
We sold our paid for home (yep, mortgage free), weeded through twenty years of momentos, donated clothes that no longer fit ( because, you know, someday I might be a size 10 again. LOL!), packed up, and made the long exhausting 500 mile move to comply with our daughter's wishes.
There's an old saying; "You can never go home again." I know exactly what that saying means. I should have listened to my head and not my heart.
All of the "she saids," didn't work out. 'Nuff said. No need for in depth details. Use your imaginations. So, hubby and I are packing up, putting our new house up for sale, in hopes that we'll get a good price; and going back to our home state. At our age, we shouldn't be starting over. We shouldn't have a mortgage payment. We shouldn't be made to feel that we were unwanted nuisances. Do birds feel this way? I wonder.
As a bestselling author, I should look at this move as a new adventure. However, at my age, I'd rather be living this adventure vicariously through the characters in my novels.
Very BIG sigh. If only I were a bird.