All of my moves…

As we prepare for our largest move yet across an ocean, I’ve been reflecting on the places and moves that have shaped me so far. The very first one was leaving our townhouse in Annandale, VA to a new neighborhood only about 2 miles away. I was in second grade, and although I don’t specifically remember the feelings I had at the time, I DO remember writing the notes.

I left several ominous notes for the future owner, scribbled and torn from a bit of coloring paper. I distinctly remember two hiding spots for certain: one was in an air vent on the floor of my bedroom, and one was underneath the toilet seat lid. I felt especially smart for thinking of that one. These jerks who dared to buy my childhood home would start cleaning the toilet and find, “I WILL COME BACK AND BUY THIS HOUSE FROM YOU SOMEDAY”.

I adjusted and loved our new home, and didn’t think about the townhouse often. But years later, in high school, my physical trainer was helping me deal with a pulled hipflexor muscle when she realized who I was. “Oh, you’re the little girl who left me those lovely welcome notes when I bought my house!” I wanted to die from embarrassment. The next thing she told me was so sweet- she said I had left my name in glow in the dark stars on my bedroom ceiling, and she never had the heart to remove them. I had left a little part of me.

I have so much compassion for second grade Maggie. My family made fun of how dramatic I was, but I now see my ability to feel things deeply as a superpower. I retold this story once when I was a first year teacher. I had a student about to move and she was feeling very anxious. Twenty four second graders giggled at the thought of their teacher leaving mean notes on a toilet seat. That student’s parents wrote me an email later, saying that their daughter had a newfound confidence in her move. I’m glad I chose to share a story that made her feel less alone.

The next major move I had to overcome was going to college. I can remember the very first weekend I moved into my dorm, feeling like it was a summer camp drop off, but also knowing it was the end of an era. My family home never quite felt the same after college. Soon, homesickness faded as I began to appreciate the freedom of college living. The next few years involved many interesting decorating choices: lime green and orange walls, a full size Britney Spears poster, and beta fish who lived in hanging fish bowls. (These sadly died when I left them in my car to freeze overnight after driving home for winter break. RIP Flava Flav and Bret Michaels.)

My first year of teaching, I had the good luck to befriend a coworker who became my roommate in a townhouse not far from where I grew up. I accidentally used dishwashing soap instead of dishwasher soap, and my Dad showed up with a large fountain Diet Coke and towels to help me clean up the bubbles overflowing onto the kitchen floor.

The first time I really moved away from *home* was to San Francisco. Chris and I had the cutest apartment by Lombard Street. I was frugal and had discovered upcycling on Pinterest. We had organizing baskets made of cardboard boxes covered with scrapbook paper, and one especially fine art project on our wall that involved toilet paper rolls cut into a floral design. I do remember crying uncontrollably on the plane flight to SF after I went on a cruise with the women in my family for my mom’s birthday. I missed the comfort of our regular family dinners, and I was worried that I wouldn’t find community for myself. But underneath the sadness, there also existed this desire to explore new places and different ways of living.

There were more moves in the years after we started our family. The Stonefield House in Little Rocky Run, where I brought both of my babies home and made my first new mom friends. I’ll never forget the painting party covering up an elaborate grape mural in my kitchen; hosting birthday parties and baby showers. We again lived close to grandparents and extended family, and it was lovely.

We moved in the neighborhood once because we wanted a cul de sac, and there we raised our boys with a neighborhood family. I cherish the time with my friends during this period, and I think of them so much more than they’ll ever realize. I carry their friendship and stories with me wherever I go.

My parents lived with us for a period of time and into the pandemic, and that is also such a gift. My boys adore them, and it was wonderful to have them close for all the little moments of raising young kids: bedtimes, early weekend mornings, soccer games and holidays.

But there was still this little underlying pull for me to leave the place where I grew up. It’s an interesting experience to grow as a person but not leave your geographic location. It’s almost like there were ghosts of 10 year old Maggie, 14 year old Maggie, 19 year old Maggie, 23 year old Maggie… and I didn’t necesarily want to be neighbors with them for the rest of my life.

During the pandemic, we started homeschooling and decided to move into our lake house. I look back on this period in my life as one of the most precious. My boys were 5 and 3, and if I could time travel I would want one day with them here. We could watch blue herons from our dock, the boys learned to swim on the lake, played in the sand and went on hikes in the woods nearby. We had a gorgeous, stunning lake home with window views of water and trees on every side. When we eventually sold this home to move to Colorado, I made peace with the idea that houses are just buildings, really. What makes it a home is the people you share that time and space with. And that’s why all of the places we’ve lived have been exceptionally beautiful, to me.

We moved to Colorado with not too many personal belongings, and stayed in a rental home for about 6 months. We had backyard neighbors who were a dream for the boys: boys their age, and they could hop the fence to play! This home sheltered us during some scary medical crises. It also introduced us to the beauty of Colorado and we realized as a family that we indeed could move away from *home* and enjoy ourselves. WE are what makes us feel at home: our sense of humor, our love of nature, our desire to explore new places together, and our love of a good burger place (Culver’s!).

Once we established a soccer team and swim team for the boys, and found a great homeschool community, we moved into our house in Boulder. It has a gorgeous yard, view of the mountains, a saltwater pool, and is in the perfect location. We have access to so much natural beauty: Chautaqua, hiking trails everywhere, Rocky Mountain National Park. The boys will always have an inside joke of mom saying, “Oh WOW LOOK AT THE MOUNTAINS!” on the daily for the entire time we’ve lived here. We love living here. I feel so lucky every day that all of my choices have led me to this place in time and space.

… so why the heck are we moving again? And to Spain, of all places? That will need another post.