Moving Slow

I hate moving. I hate picking up everything I have in one place that I call home and moving it to another place that I will eventually call home. I have recently started moving some of my stuff from my duplex that I live in with my roommate of 5ish years, Laura, to the house that I have bought with my boyfriend of 5ish years. Before we all start to point fingers and talk about me under your breath with your closest friends, I am not moving into the house. I am only moving my things in the house so as to avoid the inconvenience of moving after the honeymoon. I am still living within the rules of my grandmother so let's not get carried away with the accusations.

If I had to pinpoint one super annoying thing about myself, I would have to say it is my tendency to overanalyze things too much. Whenever a milestone of life rolls around, I find myself stuck in a really weird state of mind that forces me to consider the way things once were and worry about the way things may end up. I am not good at rolling with the punches. Thus, every time I move, it is impossible for me to throw my crap in some boxes and move on with my life. I have to revisit every stray shirt and random picture, every pair of shoes and meaningless piece of writing. Things that I haven't seen since the last move are suddenly of extreme interest to me, and I end up spending more time thinking back on the way things used to be rather than just moving on to the next phase.

As I slowly begin the process of moving out of our duplex, I can't help but realize that this is the biggest move yet. I am not moving as a wide-eyed 18 year old to experience the experience we were all predestined to have. I am not moving from one apartment to another with the same collegiate feel regardless of what apartment number I'm in. I'm not moving away from UA Fort Smith with a degree in tow and a reservation about the real world that I calculated at the time to be the biggest adjustment I would ever have to make.

I am moving with the big things in order. I have a job. I have a boyfriend almost husband. I have a little (very little) amount of money. I have a house..I now have it all. I have the American dream tucked away in 1600 square feet of real estate bliss. And yet, I am as hesitant as I have ever been. I don't know what I think about having a permanent roommate...more than that, a BOY roommate. I don't know what I think about being an adult in every sense of the word. I don't know what I think about the irreversibility (I don't know that this is a word) of the life I am about to undertake. I am not completely detached from college. I am not completely detached from paying rent and owning nothing to speak of. I am just as confused and naive as I was when I left 8500 Canopy Oaks Drive 6 years ago.

Nonetheless, moving a few different times has taught me a few things...hold on to what you know. I have had the same awesome roommate since my sophomore year of college. We did not start out as good friends, but have certainly found our way to this over the years of Sebastian Commons and life post-graduation. On a different note, in this move I have Cody, who has been like a part-time roommate since the days of staying up until 4a.m. in my volleyball apartment at the Commons (you can make accusations about this statement). We certaily know one another pretty well and I couldn't think of a better boy to pick if I had to find me a male roommate. Secondly, moving always reminds me that change is often times exactly what you need. I know that Cody and I are making a step that will be positive once all of the wedding planning clutter is stripped away and we find ourselves married and co-habitating like normal human beings do. I foresee lazy afternoons with our puppies (I literally mean dogs here, no human puppies for a while), cooking dinner on occasion (rare occasion), and all of the happiness that being married to your best friend can bring. And finally, I have learned that the building in which you reside defines very little of your life. I will still have all of the people that mean the most to me regardless of where I live. Laura may not be in the next bedroom, but she will always be a phone call away. Cody will not be in the next apartment, but instead in the same bed! There will be some turbulent times, but once the moving, wedding, marriage, new stage of life hype dies down, I am certain I will find myself at home no matter where my house is.