Transition.

I hate transition. I hate packing my life up again; I hate seeing and knowing that I am still transient, feeling rootless and belonging-less, and knowing I'm still trying to find my way in this world. I hate feeling like I'm always on some adventure, waiting for the adventure to 'fit me' or find me. I hate always trying, always knowing that 'new' keeps coming around the corner. I hate transition.

Each time I move, I transition. It's a family joke now about how well I do in transition. (My dad and I counted once how many times I moved from leaving high school until where I live now, and it's some place around 23 times -- where I actually unpacked a suitcase and stayed for a couple weeks at a time.) We all know I falter for a few weeks before the transition is finally made, and then once it's made, I do fine. But it's that fragile, tight-rope time beforehand of packing and apprehension and coming change that eats at me. I used to cry about it a lot more, but lately I/we laugh about it a lot more cause its like "here we go again" and my dad just asks where the trailer has to get my bed and where it has to drop it off this time. :)

This time, I'm transitioning again. I hate it still, but on a whole new level. I hate it because I know I have to go. I hate it because I love the Carolinas and being a "Carolina Girl" but this change is spoiled by so many things that loom out there. I hate it because I can't even go a day without talking to my family and I already go through intense withdrawal in that, so I already feel that dread and curse that is coming when weeks go by. I hate it that I'm leaving them here and that I'm off to 'new adventure' while they still have to trudge through the rest with me only partially united. I hate it that I'm going through all of this without my mom fighting behind me (in a way of gut-rooting support and courage). I hate it because it's filled with apprehension, fully on the job level, the living level, the everything level. Not knowing what I'm going into or what I'm doing or if I have the strength to make it. I hate it because its filled with the unknown and a lot of blind faith. I hate it that I'm doing it alone. I hate it because it even exists, but has to be done.

I hate transitioning. I hate it because it just doesn't fit me. I'm a nester, a home-body, a person needs roots and to love deeply. Surely, those of you who know me well also know that I need adventure and all the glories and thrills and wide open spaces that come there... But I also need some place to be always come back to...

Some place that no longer lingers in transition, but labels itself "home."