Saying Goodbye

  It's only been six months since I said goodbye to New Zealand and the loved ones I had there, and I've moved again. Not to another country, thankfully, but to another state I never imagined myself living in; Alabama.

  I know a few things about Alabama, but not enough to call it familiar. I haven't even been through this state since my mother, stepfather, and I, moved to North Carolina when I was 14. That was thirty years ago! Is it crazy for me to do this? Not really- by comparison of some my more impulsive moves of the past. What's maybe a tad crazy is I moved in with a sister I just met three months ago, and her family. But otherwise- moving is second nature to me, which makes saying goodbye seem a bit shallow at this point, when it comes to the new people in my life.

  With the job I'd been working at since October, it especially seemed empty and too easy walking away. I don't even feel bad anymore when I don't feel sad that I probably won't see these people again, because I know now it's no one's fault I can't bond with new people until I've been exposed to them for at least two years or more.

  Surprisingly, some goodbyes are getting harder for me as I get older. Leaving my sisters again was harder this time. I didn't tear up physically, but my face is not my heart. It was harder saying goodbye to close friends than it had been when I moved overseas.

  There was a time when I felt ashamed I was sort of becoming my father with the moving thing. I mean-- with my eldest daughter I can honestly say she has grown up in only two cities: Albuquerque and Austin. We just didn't keep the same address within those cities for more than a couple of years.  With my younger daughter, it's been a couple of different addresses in Austin, four different addresses in New Zealand,  two in Bastrop TX, and now Alabama.

  I'm forty-four now. This is me I think. No roots- only wings. Would I ever be able to stay in one place for the rest of my life? I really don't know if I can. It almost depresses me more to think that I could put down roots more than it does thinking I can't. But then I reread that last sentence and almost feel sad for a fraction of a second. Because what if I outlive most of the small group I've stuck around long enough to get attached to?

  How lonely that sounds when I take care to really consider what that would mean.