Moving...Again.

I am so sick of moving. Moving is such a lonely feeling. Its packing alone, driving my car alone, driving a Budget truck alone. Making phone calls to find help alone. And getting little help, so still alone. (I did find someone finally, though, and he was a blessing and helped with a joyful, grateful heart.)

Moving is once again feeling lonesome. Feeling nomadic. Feeling like I'm still not established, and still wandering. Moving is seeing that my dreams seem to never embellish to reality.

Moving is more scratches on my furniture. More chunks missing from my favorite heirloom piece. More pieces of me left and discarded.

I realize I'm not alone. I realize people care and are helpful. And I love my roommates. But my stuff is scratched, it's still in the truck because I have no one to help me unload it, and it's another temporary living situation, again. So I will re go through all of this in another six months.

So, I'm discouraged and feeling it.