🌟 Sometimes I Think I’m a Gypsy…

Anyone who knows me is very aware that I have moved many, many times in my life. As a child, we moved about as regularly as I change my hairstyle. Then I got married, and the tradition continued. And once I became a single mom, moving became almost a necessity — always searching for that perfect combination of location, job, and stability.

Somewhere along the way, I became a pro at it. (And yes I agree… what a strange thing to be good at.)

I could pack a house in record time, label boxes like a seasoned general, and clean an empty apartment until it sparkled. My friends and family learned to dread that phone call — the one where I’d casually ask if they were “busy this weekend,” followed by hours of me thanking them profusely while they hauled boxes and furniture like reluctant superheroes.

So, to everyone who has ever lifted a box, held a door, hauled a couch, or pretended they didn’t mind — thank you. You deserve medals. Or at least cookies, but please know you hav most sincere thank‑you, from the bottom of my very well‑traveled heart.

But here’s the thing: all that moving taught me lessons I didn’t even realize I was learning.

It taught me how to adapt. How to let go. How to start over, not without fear. “Fear was there, but I learned to walk beside it instead of letting it lead. It also taught me how to make a home out of whatever space I landed in.

Every move forced me to decide what was worth carrying forward — and what wasn’t. And honestly, that’s not a bad way to think about life. We don’t need to drag everything with us. Sometimes the lightest load is the one that lets us breathe.

And yes, I’ll admit it: my house is far less cluttered than it would be if I’d stayed in one place. When you move often, you learn quickly what actually matters and what’s just taking up space — physically and emotionally.

Looking back now, I can see that every move shaped me into someone flexible, resourceful, and stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. I didn’t know it then, but each new address was another chapter in learning who I was becoming.

I may not be a gypsy in the literal sense, but I’ve definitely lived a life in motion. And maybe that’s why I appreciate the stillness I have now — because I earned it, box by box, mile by mile, lesson by lesson.

What about you? Are you a fellow gypsy at heart, or are you one of those lucky souls who put down roots and never left?

Either way, feel free to share. We all have our own story.

Until next time,

Darlene