Restless Parent Syndrome

January 18, 2010
Fill the box, tape, and label. Fill the box, tape, and label. I have a rhythm going. This is a routine I have developed over the countless times we have moved. Pack the heavy items on the bottom and place the breakables in the center of the cardboard box, I remember. The packing is quite easy. Most of my things are still in boxes, since it has only been a year since we moved to this house. ‘Will I like the new house I wonder? What will it be like?’
Home isn’t the same for me as for most kids my age. I am home for Spring break from boarding school, and I am packing my room to move to a house I won’t see till I come home for summer. I was born to restless parents. For some reason my folks get bored with where they live and find the need to meet new people and start new jobs elsewhere. My home doesn’t have the remnants of my childhood, such as notches on the wall to mark my growth or a cranberry juice stain on the beige carpet. The only constant in my life is my school. But I do not find this a curse, this sort of traveling that my parents have is a disease and I am thankful to have caught it.
Every place I live is like the piece of a mosaic, each one having a different color and shape that show me facets of the world. I have met lots of interesting people. Such as Mark Kramer, the crazy cowboy I lived next door to in Indiana and Thomas, the single father from England that played soccer in Massachusetts. The reason I chose to go to boarding school was a result of their fidgety lifestyle. I wanted some sort of permanent home where I could actually develop relationships with people and make memories. Yet the friends I have made there are as diverse as if I lived in New York City.

Besides meeting new people I am always eager to try new activities. This year I have joined the golf team and have fallen in love with the sport. During the summer I experienced the thrill of skydiving and learned how to take care of an organic garden. I ponder the idea of moving to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and think of all the new experiences I will encounter. As I finish my packing, I feel the eagerness bubble in my heart. I have had a taste of the world so far and I am hungry for more.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback