In my almost fifty years, I’ve moved so many times, I’ve lost count. For me, moving households, be it across town or across country, is normal. I grew up a “corporate brat,” knowing that at any moment, my parents would announce “the company” was moving us. If they searched, scientists would probably find a “moving” gene in my DNA – it’s just a part of my being.
After somehow managing to stay put at the University of Denver for four years, I made up for lost time post-graduation and moved often. First it was apartment to apartment and then house to house. When we lived back in Denver, Jo and I actually sold a home and bought a house across the greenbelt, only to re-purchase our former house two years later and move back into it again. We lasted another year or so there before moving to another house…and then another and… Okay, I admit it – I instigated the moves.
For those like me with a predisposition to moving, going on vacation can pose a problem. A few weeks ago, I was aware of Jo’s anxiety during our eight day tropical vacation to celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary. Days before our plane touched down in Hawaii, I could read her thoughts – at any second he’s gonna start looking at real estate ads, grab a brochure, call an agent, look at places to buy…make a case for moving…yikes! And although it had been nearly three years since we’d actually been on a real vacation, I was aware that old habits die hard and that my wife was nervous.
If you are like me, the movie, “Groundhog Day” holds a special place in your heart. In this classic 1993 film, Bill Murray and Andie MacDowell find themselves in a time loop, wherein Murray’s character, Phil Connors, relives February 2 over and over again. Each identical, passing day provides Connors the time to examine and reprioritize his life. Eventually, he discovers that by helping people, learning and caring, he can break the spell. The final line of the film is an inside joke in our home – after the spell is broken and he’s awakened to a new day, Phil turns to his newfound love, Rita, and says, “It’s so beautiful here…let’s live here!” For as long as I can recall, I was Phil Conners – a man in search of a community, a sense of belonging and a desire to stay put.
Note the use of the words, “I was Phil Conners,” in my last sentence – chosen because my “moving” spell has been broken – broken by a place called Jacksonville. For the first time while on vacation, I had no interest in searching for a “new” place to call home and was happy to be a “visitor,” enjoying a new place for a short time…and then packing up my stuff and going home. Somehow, even while in a tropical paradise, I was able to ignore the real estate signs and colorful ads whispering “live here, live here.”
The reason of course was simple – I am home and living here is beautiful – in Our Small Town with Big Atmosphere!