As the year ends I often get kind of retrospective. I know I’m not the only one, and that this isn’t uncommon.
It’s one of those things we do when faced with a perceived ending I guess.

As years go it’s been a funny one, I’ve moved home quite a lot, three times to be precise, which is quite a lot, even by my standards. That’s four different places this year, and another one to come early next year.
I’ve moved home quite a few times. In fact I’ve sort of lost count. I know it’s in the thirties, but after the thirtieth time I just stopped counting, and accepted that from now on the number was just going to be known as “a lot”.
I’ve got a feeling that all this moving about isn’t great for my sense of stability and security, which can on occasion, be a little rocky.
Also though, there’s a bit of me that’s just thinking I’m getting too old for all this now. Increasingly there’s an inner voice that’s saying “Kid, you need to take it easy more, you need a place to live that’s more permanent than six months, you need to sort your shit out.”
This is the same voice that also, from time to time will be like “You definitely need to drink more of that wine and stay out all night because what if something happens and you’re not there and it’s awesome!” but every now and then it does talk sense.
I’m talking about the place to live thing here, just in case that’s not clear.

I don’t know, trouble is, after a while of doing something, it almost becomes part of life. I accept that I have to move all the time because that’s what I do. People are like “moving again eh? Bet you’re used to it now eh?” and that’s it exactly.
I am used to it. I’m a pro at loading and driving a van, I can pack like a boss, and when I’m between houses, I can live out of a suitcase for as long as it takes, even if we’re talking months.
When I go away I can fit everything I need into a tote bag, and this comes from all times I’ve had to move. My life is transitory, every moment is temporary, and I am always on the move.

It is so tiring sometimes, and yet it’s also exhilarating, which is where the problem arises. I am used to it, but I also sort of like it. I want to stay somewhere for longer than six, ten, twelve months, but I’m afraid if I do I’ll just get restless, and want to move on, see what else is out there, keep the movement going, not stagnate.

And yes, I think I’m talking about relationships there as well.

Like I said at the beginning, endings make me retrospective. Every now and then though, an ending can give you clarity on a way you do things, and enable you to start something new.