Moving

I don't believe that people do this. Not voluntarily anyways. We are now officially not homeless. Carl, his friend Bob, and I packed up a 26 foot truck Uhaul. And we still didn't get everything on our truck, so we are back to rent a smaller truck and do this all again tomorrow. It rained and rained, but we managed to not have any broken bones, just sore muscles and bruised egos (mainly from the guys). I only ended up with a couple of bruises as I fell on to the Uhaul ramp loading something on that was unimportant (and of course, this happened when it wasn't yet raining or slick). As I followed Carl in the Uhaul in my car, my mind was wandering. I was tired from a lack of sleep after sleeping on my mom's uncomfortable bed that she so generously gave up our last night, I started thinking of all of the retired folk that move to Florida or move anywhere and wonder how these individuals can be so brave to start a whole new life someplace else. I know how difficult it is for me after three decades and can only imagine how difficult it is for them. Most people move at least once in their life, but nowadays it seems like most people move several times in their lives. I know how exhausting it's been for us changing addresses, packing up boxes, quitting jobs, and just changing our lives that I wonder how retired folk do it, but they do. And how does anyone do it for that matter? People are brave, I've come to realize. Today I heard a story about a woman who is autistic who received a Ph.D. Now if this woman could get a Ph.D. with her disability, it makes me feel that I shouldn't be afraid to start a new life in a new city. It also makes me realize how scary it must have been for many of my relatives to start a whole new life in a new country and not even know the language (or not well anyway) and to be able to sustain a livelihood and raise families and create their own social networks. I should be able to do this. Human beings are resilient, I've learned.