Summer Was a Moving Experience

If I had to describe this past season, besides the obvious — it’s been a hot one (July 2019 was the hottest on record) — I’d proclaim the summer of 2019 as moving. Moving in the literal sense, as in packing up stuff into crates and boxes, then transferring all of it to another location.Over the course of the last three months, either solo or with another family member, I’ve greeted five moving trucks and crews.  

Around Easter, two of my daughters announced their plans to move. In May, my middle daughter and her husband planned to close on their first house. In New Jersey. Thirty days later, my youngest child scheduled an apartment shuffle. In D.C. As each girl unveiled her plan to swap households, their body language was identical: leaning in over the table to drop the news, a sheepish grin, then a nervous chuckle. Those nonverbal cues compel a parent to query: Do you need help?

Never one to mince on a healthy dose of honesty, my husband declared, “Your mother can come if she likes. The day I officially moved you off a college campus, I retired from schlepping pillows, dirty clothes, hangers and bathroom products.” Through guffaws, the girls assured him, “We don’t really need you, Dad. Just Mom.” Amen. I scheduled my flights.

For three days in May, I unpacked and washed kitchen dishes and glassware. In turn, my daughter educated me on the fine art of ordering in yummy meals via a cellphone app. Unloading boxes, my daughter and I unearthed forgotten mementos, old photos and silly knick-knacks that sent us into fits of giggles. When I returned to the Midwest, I sported a battered manicure, random scrapes and bruises, and a sense of satisfaction. I’d been included in a landmark event: setting up my daughter’s first home.

The June apartment shuffle with the other daughter was a slight twist on the first move. I was summoned for moral support, for my knack of hanging artwork precisely, and for the Target credit card at the front of my wallet. Predictably, the purchase of fresh linens, towels and toiletries ranked high on the agenda. (Kudos to my husband. He spared himself carting those necessities and stuffing them into a ride share.) Like her older sister, this daughter fetched us great lunches. She also booked fabulous dinners at local eateries she’d been dying to try, but couldn’t afford. We shared silly moments and precious chats. We also pressed through tough moments, like when the elevators went out a half hour before the movers arrived. 

In contrast, moves three and four challenged only me. Tasked with clearing out two investment properties, I booked service elevators, commandeered luggage carts and overloaded an already jammed SUV. Solo for most of these efforts, I made due with fast food options. I also got my big toe in the way of a substantial service room door. I’m not sure which was worse: the throbbing bruised appendage or the embarrassment of a full elevator watching me impale myself. Here’s the takeaway. If one must move household goods, it’s advisable to commandeer an able sidekick, someone with whom you can share a laugh or a problem, and who can assist with doors and meal planning.

The last chapter in my summer moving chronicles involved a kitchen and bathroom renovation at a family getaway. Like the initial summer moves, travel, purging, packing and storing transpired. So did bodily dings and scrapes, cursing at snarled packing tape and stubborn boxes, and the discovery of forgotten treasures and mementos. All the wiser, courtesy of moves one through four, for this project I commandeered my son’s help. While the two of us prepared the house for its renovation, there were glitches and minor injuries, as well as, the creation of new silly memories. We reminisced and we ate well.

For some folks, the benefits of moving involve downsizing, eliminating financial strain, the desire for a change of location or the need for adventure.  For this veteran of small moves, it has meant fellowship and discovery. Regarding future family relocations, I’m considering my husband’s stance: your stuff, your problem. It’s easier on the body and the checkbook.

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