It’s been a long time since I’ve had lasts that I knew were coming. Most of the time they pass unnoticed–the last time I saw my uncle, or the last time we went to a specific restaurant before it burned down. You don’t know it’s the last until later, sometimes much later. Other times you recognize them, especially if you’re in a job that requires frequent moves. We had a lot of lasts in our time with the Air Force. Most of them were sad or bittersweet, but there were a lot that came with a sigh of relief. Since Eric retired nearly a decade ago, we haven’t had many of those. We’ve had last days of school, last day with kids at home, things like that, but not as many as we used to have.
Now they’ve started again. I’ve had what I believe will be my last birthday in St. Louis. I might be wrong. We will still be around from time to time, and it’s possible I will be in town for another one, but I’ve had enough of these to know them when I see them.
Moving has always been an equal mix of terror and excitement for me, like any good adventure. It’s hard to make new friends. You have to find a new doctor/dentist/vet/mechanic/etc, but there are new places to explore and new things to see. Thanks to the internet, we can stay in touch with friends from past places.
My friends who have lived in one place their whole lives think I’m crazy. Some have wondered why I’m generally calm and not a stressed-out mess. The thing is, I think I am a stressed-out mess! I just know how this works now and have the wisdom to know that it won’t last. My one goal for this move is to not open a box in the new place, pull something out, and say, “Honey, why did we move this?”