I Hate Moving House

Recently we moved into what is my 15th house ever.

I am well used to moving by now,but it doesn't make it any easier; indeed I dread the 'M' word.

All of my life I have dreamed of being settled in one place. It must be nice to know that you don't have to go anywhere anytime soon.

The only place that ever felt like 'home' for me, the place which defines being at home, was my grandparents' house. Everything was settled and for the most part, idyllic. It defines for me that one short period of time where we didn't have to move anywhere or worry about being moved on; it just felt more permanent.

Of course, nothing ever really is, and as my grandparents' health declined with age we became transient once more. I look back upon the time that we had to pack up their house with grief and mourning, nothing less. Being told that we were done there, that it was to be no more, that we had to leave it all behind; the strawberry patch, the pitch of grass we learned to play football on, the patio where we had all spent many summers as a family, the path which rambled through the garden and led to the wooden back door that creaked, through the kitchen where xmas was made and homemade chips were a saturday night fixture, the living room where my grandad demanded hush to watch the football fixtures and where my nana taught us to play scrabble, up the stairs that each had their own noise as someone came down, almost musical, and the bannister which we could whizz down if we held on tight. The bedrooms where we spent hours playing Nintendo, and making dens and chatting and playing.

Devastating.

I don't think I'll ever get over it, and to be honest I will always look to that as the ideal; what I want again for myself, what I want to make for my husband and what I want to create for my kids.

My mum was a single parent, and although now more than ever I can begin to understand why we moved around so much, I also realise that she is just one of those people who like to move around and keep looking for something better.

One day I might get back to my ideal and live a blissfully happy life.  Maybe. Can I ever?  Can it ever be something to aspire to, or just a memory?