Move. Change. Adjust.

Move. Change. Adjust.

As moving goes, be it houses, towns, Provinces, County’s and countries, I have done it all. 17 times to be precise. Yes you heard right. 17 moves in 17 years.

At one point I was going to make a scrapbook of all the homes I’ve lived in, as if it were something to be proud of, like some kind of accomplishment. It wasn’t. Well not for me in any case. Being a homebody who loves nothing more that to put down roots as quickly as possible and get entrenched into the community and routine, moving is somewhat counterproductive.  Unless it’s a move in the area to a specific estate or house you had your eye on that would further entrench your life there and make even more convenient and comfortable. On the positive side, I can count having expert relocation skills and experience under my belt that’s for sure. (Note to self to update my LinkedIn profile with that!) I have learnt to execute the logistics pretty seamlessly. And for the most part, the majority of the moves were pretty much like the other, from one house, flat, duplex, semi-detached, cottage to the next.

Until now.

Leaving the home where Aiden was born was difficult. And now leaving the home I owned, where Ava-Jane was born, where Aiden spent most of his life and where I not only planted roots but an entire orchid in its fifth year of bearing fruit (It was also the longest I have ever stayed in the same house apart from Spence Rd, where we grew up – was there 20 years), you can imagine was devastating.

A place is a place. You can make new friends. A house is a house, they said.
But it’s not. It wasn’t.

For me, the place and the friends and family created this rock-solid foundation on which I not only built my home, my castle, my life, but my confidence, my happiness, my well-being, and controlled my anxiety.  It felt like I knew everyone and everything. Everything had a place, and was in place, and there was a place for everyone and everything. I had tweaked and refined my life to the point that it hummed like a finely tuned engine. This removed an enormous amount of anxiety from my life; Kids are sick and need the Drs – sorted, my Dr was like a best buddy. Need a wax? Sorted, a bestie was on hand. Hospital? Sorted, been there so many times I know what who and where the best parking spot is. Kids dress up day at school? Sorted. Cake for a birthday? Sorted.  Feel like hitting a class at the gym? Sorted, I could call on a number of besties to meet me there at a moment’s notice. I had it timed down to the second how long it would take me to stop at Dischem and the KwikSpar before fetching the kids.  #sorted #organised #perfectrhythym

This move felt like an earthquake.

It was one of those moments that you have to wrap up carefully with bubble wrap, tape it over a few times and pack it up in a box to deal with later as dwelling on it would prove futile, just get in the way, and render me pretty useless.

That was the problem right there. I packed it away.

The actual move was well-planned and pretty perfectly executed. Schools sorted. House sorted. Removal truck booked. Boxes packed. Flights, car, doggie transport….. everything rolled out in military precision. Even the truck arrived exactly when I wanted it to. 9am sharp.

The labelled and numbered boxes, 48 of them to be precise, kept coming in. And they kept piling up until I felt like there was no more room to move.  As I looked around I realised that the castle I had meticulously built was now reduced to bricks, stacked as high as the ceilings. My rock-solid foundation obliterated.

But me sobbing in the middle of Aiden’s room, surrounded by boxes and staring at a bed in pieces wasn’t going to help to get my castle rebuilt. I had to get everything in place and instil some semblance of routine for my babies. I would move mountains for them, or in this case move to the Mountain, to be able to do what I can give my little family the best life I can. I had to start somewhere and the beds seemed like the most logical.

I think the point of all this, for me was to admit that this was hard. That I miss my old home. I miss my old life and all the special people I left behind. I was so busy planning my new life, that I forgot to grieve over the old one. Because, for all intents and purposes, it is gone. I needed to say it out loud so that I can acknowledge it, give it its dues instead of packing it away and bury it somewhere, in order to focus on starting again, building my new life in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

Yes, it will be hard.
Yes, it will take a lot of effort.
Yes, it is stressful.

But it is not insurmountable.

It will take time.
It will take patience.
It will mean being out of my comfort zone.

Move. Change. Adjust

We will rebuild.

As they say Rome wasn’t built in a day.

Meaning… “A complex task or great achievement takes time and effort and should not be rushed.”.

I would make one small adjustment to that phrase.

Home wasn’t built in a day”

Bron
xxx

This is me not saying Goodbye

This is me not saying Goodbye

The total sum of me and madam for the next week. A couple of suitcases, not forgetting Rainbow Sprinkles the multicoloured bunny.

It all got pretty darn real, real quick this week.

A heartfelt very big Thank You to all the people who;

…helped pack rocking up with vacuum seal bags, dinner and sorted lego,

…sat for hours with me going through boxes of random cables and cords, shit loads of cables and cords that were either broken and worthless or some hectically important piece of very rare, very expensive conduit that without it the cyber world or any tv viewing or device would be rendered futile. Let’s hope we made the right call?

… rocked up with bin Bags. Why do we always have stock piles of the things until the day you move, then you can’t find a bloody grocery packet for love nor money let alone an actual black bin bag,

…spent an entire day just bubble wrapping photo frames! That is love right there peeps

…is busy driving my car down to Cape Town along with a boat load of luggage oh and our son! Rather you than me. Refer to my previous post on road tripping with kids here.

…Lent me a car aka Mac Attack- I feel like I should have a couple of surf boards strapped to the roof racks to go with the rad stickers and low profile. Instead there’s a racing red baby car seat in the back. 😂

…came with buddies and a vok off heafty steel toolkit in tow (and a Mahindra Truck not dissimilar to Towmater, except for the tow hitch) to help dismantling stuff. Typical chick with no tools! Nadda

…helped with numerous loads to the dump. I still ended up with 48 boxes! 48, I must have gotten rid of that amount… so much of stuff, too much of stuff.

…helped on the other side of this journey collecting keys for our new home and will be collecting us from the airport. You will spot us with Baba the dog and baba Madams baby doll. 👍🏼😜

…made my last full weekend in 031 one to remember. Kettle water showers, exercising with a hottie on stage at FNO, uber errands dropping off cupboards and compressors, shopping, looong lazy dinner, breakfast and lunch (hot molten chocolate pudding is lunch) and stairs! loads and loads of effing stairs!

…gave us a cosy room for the week with special little touches like water bottles to warm the bed. Much needed after sleepless nights and 2 days on my feet.

Thank you.

To all my peeps…Thank you for bringing me dinner, for the impromptu pop in’s, messages, cards, gifts, calls, specifically seeking me out in the car licence queue at the post office for a hug. Thank you for the house call waxing session, the non-book book club get together at my house that all I had to do was pitch up for. It was a tall ask but I managed. I made it. They came with THE most divine spread of yummy snacks and lots of alco-haul.

Thank you.

They say it takes a Village, well Hillcrest and all it’s peeps (local or not) was my village. A much loved village. Yes Pinetown counts (however you don’t need to pack a lethal spoon in your evening clutch purse for protection) and it counts if you used to live there and moved. 😢

Durban, specifically Hillcrest, specifically Rockwood gave us a beautiful place to call home. It was Home Sweet Home indeed.

To my nearest and dearest, my loves ones;

parents (for the help and support through every step, like my very own Zimmer frame, keeping me on the path one foot in front of the other. Steady does it, unwavering. Sturdy) , friends – old and new (old as in the length of time we have known each other, not actual age, although, we are all getting on a bit so I can see where some of you might have been confused, so lets go with long-standing), and friends near and far (and as luck would have it I got to spend time with 2 far away friends but near to my heart in the last few weeks), cuzzies, (and their kids which we refer to our kids as cuzzies, which I’m sure is not accurate but hey… borough rules!) aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews, all my family (blood and non blood), Rockwood neighbours yes even my third child and his family (absence makes the dragon Mom breathe less fire), gym buddies, Pilates and yoga peeps, class and school moms (and dads!) my bestest dentist, doctor, therapists (regular and otherwise), hairdresser (well hairdresser/ therapist same thing isn’t it??) handyman, repair guy, chiro, Physio, Pilates instructor, nanny, the next door Office catering peeps (who make THE best wraps eva and the sweet chilli chicken and brown rice dish- we ate like kings!) , the cosy coffee shop (aka my office who knew in the last week or so to bring me a water with lemon and no ice, followed by a dark hot chocolate, without fail), and my A team who made every day at work an absolute pleasure (even through the tears and last minute panic Office moves, shitty days, good days and everything in between. I’m going to have to get used an office consisting of more than 2 people! And find someone to share lunch wraps with! Eeek) …..

I am grateful to have had you in my crazy-ass life and it’s all the richer for it.

I am incredibly blessed. I know this, always have known and wouldn’t ever take for granted how rich my life is. I have worked hard to ensure that hopefully I have reciprocated at some point, in some way, big or small. On that point I did forget the bag of Avos for R30 from the guy on the side of the roads. Ooops sorry.

Now to find a similar bunch like you.

Hmmmm, It will be tough, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Time to ride this current and let the wind take me soaring to the next chapter. Like a Dove….Well actually it’s more like a Mango, the 8.50am flight. Wings all the same.

Until next time.

Mwah 💋Xxx