So, I moved again. But, today I’m okay.

Growing up as a military child, I moved a lot.

I’d typically be a stationed at a location for a year, sometimes two. I moved more than nine times before my 18th birthday. I’m 23 now, and you can add four more to that list.

But, when I was young and I moved there was always this deep attachment and loss of leaving something important behind. I learned quickly that as much as they’d promise to “keep in touch” they won’t.

I’m sure they meant well. I really do. It’s just that as time continued to go counting the days , it was a difficult task to keep up with a friend you’ve only known for a year. Though, I always wish they had.

I felt this small resentment and deep understanding that, it really didn’t matter who I was because at the end of the year: I was replaceable.

The new girl fad always faded, but no matter what location it was always in style. I never had any problems making new friends. I’m friendly enough. I think others found difficulty being friends with me.

With each move, I became more distant and my little bricks that I accumulated began to grow tall. The thing with walls, it that though it’s great for keeping people out. It’s also great at keeping you from people.

I don’t think that’s what I wanted. Though, I’m sure I would have told you otherwise.

When I went to college I didn’t know the wall existed. Like some hidden cloak that people enjoyed pointing out before giving up when I still couldn’t see it. But, as time continued to go and days passed nostalgia seeped like hot tea, dishing out truths I was ready for, but I struggled to sit with.

The steam that fogged my glasses cleared. I was vulnerable. And it sucked.

Holy shit, it really sucked. It still does.

But, being vulnerable is probably one of the strongest, most powerful things we can do in this life. Because without it, I also would have missed out one of the most amazing moments in my life so far.

It’s like this intense Pandora’s box. You can’t have one without the other.

Which bring me back to my move. 23 and staying with my family. Pandemic and Racism thick in the air. And of course my thoughts still linger on a boy.

But, for once in my life: I moved. No, pain. No, longing.

Not, because I’m alone. But, because for once in my life: I have me. All of me.

I’m pretty happy with that for now.