Not far. Right around the corner, in fact. Not like the last two moves, one of which involved crossing an ocean and the other, crossing a country.
This Fall is nothing like what I expected. I thought I'd take a few auditions, start to build my studio, complete my proposal, maybe start running again. (Ok, the last one is a lie, but I thought at least I'd start doing a class at the gym or something. Nothing radical but enough to get my but out of the house.) Instead, we saw a house in our 'hood that we liked, put in an offer, put our house not he market a few days after that, sold our house 3 days later and moved at the end of October. No Army packing us up this time. It was closest to the moves I did in University, with a van and the back breaking labour of a few friends and family. Except with 3 little people underfoot and a lot less beer.
We've been here a month and people are starting to ask the moving-equivalent of "Is your baby sleeping through the night yet?" And while it's liveable, it's not home yet. It's not me yet. It's not us yet. (My studio doesn't have a door - oh the humanity.) I can't tell anyone how truly lucky and strange it feels to live in a place like this.
Which brings me to my next point - we are incredibly privileged. Not only do we have a roof over our heads, it's a pretty roof. Not only do we have a safe place for our children to lay their heads, they also have a playroom and lovely neighbours and planned open-space paradise in which to play. We aren't hungry, we aren't isolated, we aren't running from prosecution or war or famine or natural disasters. We have a place in which to move beyond basic survival of the fittest. Where we can play and create and feed and sing and dance and clean and care and love.
So, in the process of making this house into a home, with each thanksgiving dinnner, with each loaf of bread baked, with each birthday and anniversary, with each stubbed toe and scraped knee, with all the laughter and all the tears, we hope to remain grateful. And to fill this place with people and their stories instead of stuff.