I watched my suitcase move down the conveyor belt and out of sight. I grabbed the ticket and headed through security. I didn’t smile. Not yet anyway. I made my through the throngs of people and took my seat. I had a first class ticket to New York. I looked out the window and smiled.

Move.

I didn’t know then what I was getting myself into. Like most instances in my life, this was purely spur of the moment and the need for more. I needed a change. I didn’t know how to get the change I needed where I was at the time; so I did what any twenty something year old does. I moved.

I moved away from my home, my family and everyone I knew.

What I learned in that year and half of living in another state and being completely out of my comfort zone is that nothing is possible unless I move. Also always have a designated driver, at least two girls who know how to change a flat tire, get a train schedule ahead of time  and always leave the bar together.

Move.

I taped the last box together and looked around. This move was hard. I had formed a bond with my sister in law. We were as close as sisters, but I had to move back. So my small little mini me finished packing and left for the airport.  We all cried that day I pulled away.

Family means everything to me. Fierce loyalty means finding someone who doesn’t back down when things get tough. This woman and me are as fierce as two people can be. She would go on to be my mentor and my guide through a storm; and to this day I cannot tell her or ever express to her how much her fierceness, love and sheer determination mean to me.

Move.

The sun beat down on us. We had been at this packing thing for a week. It was down to the last day. The sun was starting to set as I closed the door on my house.  The thought of moving away…again…was a scary thing. It wasn’t an easy decision and I had a little girl whose whole world was in that town. It was all she had ever known and I was about to move her from it all.

Move.

The move back to my home state was a hard one. At times a gut wrenching slide into the ditch as I tried to help my daughter navigate the newness of it all. She hated it. She wouldn’t tell me that. She kept it all tucked away for fear of hurting me, but I knew. Her teachers knew. She missed her familiar home, her friends and her dad.

What she didn’t know or couldn’t understand is I had to move. I had to make the decision to better my life so I could better hers. I wasn’t taking away from her life, but trying to add to it.

Four years later and we have found some footing.  I don’t have that gut wrenching feeling of watching a car wreck and she has learned to move.

I had been in the middle of shit storm for so long, I didn’t have time for the mental break down I deserved. So because of that, I acted out like a teenager. I stayed out too often, I left her with my parents or my sister and I did whatever it was I wanted. Being selfish was a survival skill when I had been living someone else’s idea of life for so long, I had forgotten how to live.

Move.

Now I am packing again. We have outgrown this little space and I have grown too. I finally figured out who and what I want; and I am grateful he is brave enough to move too.

Move.