This moving truck is along my route to work, it sits off a gravel road and serves as a reminder of the meandering path our lives can take.
As a little girl I moved often, which put me in a different school for Kindergarten, First, Second, and Third grade. (Gratefully, upon returning to Louisville, Kentucky we didn’t move again.) I distinctly remember the feeling of the Mayflower truck pulling up to our house. Sadness washed over me, but so did excitement – a complex mix of emotions as I held tightly to my stuffed animal and watched all our belongings being loaded out of my home and into the truck, heading to the next destination. A new bedroom, a new school, new friends.
All these years later, the sight of the Mayflower truck takes me back to my 6-year-old self. I wish I could tell her how brave she was and how the moves, though difficult, created a resiliency and strength that would serve her so well throughout her life. A quick ability to make new friends and to be comfortable in any situation stems from those early experiences of learning a new neighborhood and school repeatedly. There were a few rough moments; mom having to carry me to the school bus in her bathrobe one morning (I had decided I was NOT going to school that day – I went), hiding under the school secretary’s desk after a particularly hard day at yet another new school. But I also remember running through my various neighborhoods enjoying wonderful days as a child of the late 1970’s and early 80’s. We played on swing sets, rode bikes, danced in sprinklers – all with friends that were kind and welcoming.
How fitting that this vivid reminder of my life’s journey is here on my daily commute. I would’ve never planned that I would move to rural Iowa – an unconventional “homecoming” to the farmland of my husband’s roots. But here I am, leaning into the unexpected and enjoying the adventure of this new place.