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Moving
January 9, 2019
The six-year-old, leaving her home mountains
For the vast adventures of the West.
New faces, new voices, new ways of life.
The ten-year-old, the thirteen-year-old,
Moving, moving, always moving.
New schools, new church, new friends.
The sixteen-year-old, leaving her home country
For the exciting experiences of New Guinea.
Strange faces, strange voices, strange ways of life.
Ever moving, excited for the next new thing.
Never realizing she was shutting inwards,
Never letting roots down, people in—
Always preparing for the next time to say goodbye.
Moving, moving, leaving again.
In the end, will there ever be
Old friends, old places, a well-worn way of life?
© Emily E., Marblehead, MA
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Throughout my life, I've moved several times. Sometimes they were small moves: just into a different circle of people. Sometimes they were larger, like moving to a different state or even overseas. With a pattern of friends left behind, it can be a struggle keep my heart open to people, often unconsciously keeping people at an arm's length. Knowing so many friends around me will likely just drop out of my life can be heart-breaking, but it's better to love and be vulnerable than shut oneself off. This is my constant battle.