Sometimes You Do Go Home Again

Moving is always difficult for me. I was fortunate to never had moved when i was a kid, so I didn’t have the pleasure of the experience until my freshman year of college. Because of that, moving makes me anxious and sick and stressed and I can’t wait for it to be over. I wish there were a way to fast-forward through the whole process.

My cat, Karma, is about as well-suited to moving as I am.

karma packs

We have to adjust to the new noises and smells, new neighbors and neighborhood, way more birds and bugs and the occasional neighborhood cat. Karma spent our first night here meowing through the wee hours of the morning. It’s like sensory overload, despite the fact that I 9and she) grew up about 10 away from where we are now.

I was back in Rockville for less than 24 hours, and the first conversation I had with a stranger was at the bank.

‘. . .I recognize that last name. . .Did you go to Rockville High School? Do you have an older brother?’

And just like that I feel like a kid again, trailing behind my big brother.

Coming back to a community I’m familiar with is somewhat comforting. Like a puzzle piece fitting nicely into the place it was intended for. Except, I’m a puzzle piece with cat-gnawed corners, and the puzzle was in the box too long so it’s become slightly warped and it takes extra effort to force my piece back into the puzzle.

To keep my spirits up about the move (and to help keep myself busy while I’m so underemployed) I’m doing #100happydays on instagram. So follow me! @another20something. Maybe this will even turn me into an optimist. . .

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