…you stop counting every four-wall-structure that you make a home for a while and then leave after that while – for some one else to do the same – in their own way.
Some say that there is only one such structure that they have known – some know many. Some change it so often that they question and search for roots. Some people I know hate moving from one place to another. Some of them enjoy it – almost as an adventure. They have plans, processes and strategies formulated for when they move. Ever seen a house that seemed to take more care of the packaging than the appliance itself? Well, in that case you know such a person.
I am one of them. That is second nature to me: moving; change.
Call it choice or chance, weigh it either ways. I love the suspense associated with moving. As if pregnant with hopes for seeing something new – meeting different people – who you may like or not like – if you get to know them, i.e.
I have often wondered if it is pathological in a subconscious way – this moving ever-so-often. Take the number of houses I have lived in and the years I have been alive – I think I have shifted every 1.5-odd years. Are the people (like me) who move so often, running away from their roots or are in the process of finding them? Richard Bach, when he was searching for his soul-mate, once said (something like) that searching for a person (in different places) is not a way to find her; it is a way to lose her. There is a corollary to that. The words fail me at this instance.
I am thankful that I am relatively well-rooted in reality; in my here and now. But, I won’t deny, I miss the wind of Konkan in my hair, the faint smell of mangoes and jackfruit, the beaches bereft of humans and plastic waste, the green-yellow-brown landscape (depending on the time of the year).
Maybe we aren’t born with roots (like the trees are); maybe we have to grow them. When we make a choice of belonging; nothing stops us from belonging – to more than one place.
I am just glad that my roots allow me to spread my branches.
Gaizabonts 
“I have often wondered if it is pathological in a subconscious way”
is it? or is it just a question of what they call, fate? i mean, isn’t your moving based on need? then again, some people say we script our fate!
i wud say that u r lucky though, coz i’ve been trying to move and it is such an ordeal i actually even wrote about it!
but i love the change too – in fact, sometimes, i look forward to it. for me, things get too boring too soon. everything does 😦
LikeLike
wow…i cud really connect to this post…even i have changed dozens of houses since childhood…have even lost count now…when someone asks me “from where do u belong to”….i dont how to respond…where are my roots?…ur last para in a way solves my dilemma
LikeLike
I don’t mind change, i’m not one of those who always adapt to change easily but moving has never been a problem for me maybe that’s because i always knew my roots were firmly in place in my parents place. Home will always remain while other’s were just temporary abodes that just fill my life with different phases of my life.
Nice post.
Oh and I did enjoy the 5 inches of snow 🙂
LikeLike
==Dharma:
I’d rather go for the scripting-our-fate theory. And I am not sure ho wit sounded – but I am not complaining – I love moving – it makes things that much more fun!
Oh yes, I did read that post! 🙂
==Sherriff:
Thanks mate!
I have just updated the post. I had written about the “where do you belong” phenomenon. Here it is again. You’re from…?
==Sangeeta:
Well it was a bit different for me – parents kept moving too! 🙂 Perhaps the grandparents home was home then? Not sure 🙂
Thank you (did you see my snowman?)
LikeLike