Picking up the pieces

I moved… a lot. I don’t recall a time in my life that I spent a significant amount of time in one spot, just a few years, at most then move. This would lead to a certain degree of isolation from people.

New places, new people, I was the odd one out. It wasn’t always bad per say but it was difficult to get used to doing. After a while though, you don’t even notice you are doing it.

Looking back now I have no photographs, no letters, no toys, nothing to remember my childhood [if it could rightfully be called a childhood].

Moving is sort of like starting a new life, I’ve had more ‘new lives’ started than years I’ve been alive. Especially moving out of state, new state moves mean starting from scratch. It gives you a chance to be someone else, make a new name for yourself.

The moving around habit, if it could be called that, has followed me into my adult life. It’s slowed down some but it hasn’t stopped. I haven’t been in one state for more than a few years and not in more than one place for more than a year or so at a time.

Because of this I am always left picking up the pieces of my life and taking them someplace else. Things always seem to disappear when you move, clothing, knick knacks, photographs. Who knows where they honestly end up but it isn’t where they should be, that is for sure.

It gets old though. Like anything really, but realizing you don’t have anyone you’ve known for a significant amount of time in your life isn’t fun. I got used to being so isolated, that when life finally slowed down, I looked back and realized it was only me.

For the past 12 years or so if I couldn’t take it with me it was left behind. This meant losing a lot of memories and things I couldn’t part with. But somehow I always managed to do it.

Picking up the pieces of me has gotten old, very old. Luckily I found someone to settle down with and build something that will last. Something that will follow me around. I lost a lot of pieces, childhood memories are all but gone. But I get to build new ones, better ones, with someone I love. That is something special.

Even if the journey was tiring, it was well worth it.

7 responses to “Picking up the pieces

  1. You know that I, unfortunately, ‘get’ this. Me and you, we’re just a bunch of pieces patched together. The beautiful thing, for me at least, is now I don’t have to worry about moving or keeping all the pieces together. If you are there, I’m home.

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