I’m familiar with moving. Since I graduated my university, I moved every three years because I had to do. Maybe God gave me chance to be like troubadour. I enjoyed it.
But this time, it’s too hard to move. Here, midwestern United States, I didn’t have any family or relative or friends three years ago. Now this town became my second home. I can be really who I am because of my friendship and education here. I like cleaning and packing. I know I can do it. I just don’t want to leave.
Graduation may not be a moment. I am gradually graduating by organizing my papers, books, and things.
I liked my bed. I liked my small kitchen. I liked this room so much. I liked the window. I liked my bathroom. Many things happened in this room: I cried, cried and cried in the first year when I was alone. I enjoyed cooking in the second year. I struggled in the most difficult time in my life last fall.
Two years and nine months. Messy and grateful life.
I’ll be back to my hometown and spend with my mother and sister for a while. Then I will move to the other prefecture. Someone offer a room for me. I still don’t know where I’m going next year.
|I am an organized person usually, maybe.|
Is God wanting me to be itinerant? I’d love to do it.
Moving is not to throw away the memory or my stuff. Moving is to step forward with the precious memory and give away my stuff.
I’ll finish my moving ritual tomorrow.