I wanted to wave her down, get out of the car, and give her a big hug. I wanted to offer her a tissue and cry with her, because almost two years ago I lived through the grand adventure of moving our family from Flower Mound, Texas to Sandy, Utah. I felt I had an idea of what she was about to experience. The drive itself was only the beginning of the journey.
I wanted to tell her that I knew how much she will miss her old friends and neighborhood, and especially any family she may have left behind. Her children will come home from school in tears, insisting that they move back to their old home - today. She'll get in the car to go to a library or post office and realize she has no idea where one is. She'll open her bin of Halloween decorations and start to cry as she unpacks the decorations her favorite neighbor had given her last year. After carefully mapping out directions to a doctor's or dentist's office, she'll become helplessly lost and come back home in tears.
She will feel lonely and isolated in her new neighborhood; although neighbors will be friendly, meaningful relationships and friendships don't grow overnight. It will take time to adjust to the idiosyncrasies of her new house, yard, and weather conditions. She will second guess their family's carefully-thought-out-decision to move at least a thousand times. She will feel lost in so many ways.
And then one day she will wake up in anticipation of a lunch date with a new friend, a decorating project to fill that blank space on her wall, or even of getting out
I wanted to tell the driver all of those things as we passed her truck. Instead, I tried unsuccessfully to catch her eye, and we continued on with our evening. That night as I went to bed, I thought once more about the U-Haul driver, and realized that I had made it through the most difficult part of the move. I silently thanked her for being lost, but hoped it wouldn't take too long for her to find her new home, and to find her place there.



6:33 pm