Moved. Yet again.

Yet again. This is the 9th house since I left college in 2001. And that’s counting only the places I’ve lived for more than 6 months. Doesnt include the travels or places I stayed for a few months.

Maybe that’s why it was this easy. Maybe that’s why I’m so detached. Maybe that’s why I’m so unsettled. Maybe that’s why, in my heart, I still feel like a nomad. A stranger. The outsider. The one who doesnt belong. Anywhere.

Maybe that’s why I’m comfortable, anywhere. Why I can be at home, in just about any city.

I’m surprised by how smooth the move was – emotionally. It was easy to let go of the old place and shift. Even with all it’s charm of a weekend resort. The actual packing and moving – was a pain. Esp since we were all 3 down with a cold and fever. But exactly 1 week later, we’re all settled into the new place. All boxes unpacked. The only things that remain  are putting up the photo frames; and tuning the maids.  Along with the paper work – the rental agreement, the gym membership, the mandatory change of address everywhere. The kid’s slowly making friends in the new place; and hopefully, we will too.

This time around, I was detached. I didn’t fret and fume at the movers. Atleast, not much. Most of my furniture and stuff have residual marks of that hideous brown tape. I shrug and let go of it. Many of my plants got broken/killed enroute. I grin and bear it. The furniture is shakier, patched, the countless moves now clearly show on it. Right alongside the scratches and dents courtesy the kid.  I’ve been scrubbing and cleaning and cooking all through the last week. Still havent got the right maids. Adjusting to it.

I’m quite surprised how we all took the move in our stride. The kid behaved himself and didnt trouble us too much. The hubby pitched in with the unpacking. Almost like he was a pro. Though it was his first move.

I think the move was just a small part of the chaos of this month. The brother visited India after 5 yrs and really met my boys for the first time. He’d met the husband once earlier – just during the wedding ceremony.  The brother was on a bride-hunt. And it made my stomach churn.

I’m also finally letting go of the one place that’d provided me some stability over the years – 4 yrs to be precise. And I’ve been nostalgic and morose about it all month. Trying to convince myself it’s time to move on.  It’s difficult letting go. Of that dream. Of those memories.

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