Moving has to be among the worst experience anyone can encounter. It drains your body, your soul, and your energy. I remember my grandfather telling me once that moving is like licking honey off a thorn! My move last week made me realize exactly what he was saying.

                Last week I moved from one house to another or should I say “I drug my feet and my belongings from one house to the other.” I moved into the home I am now living in here on 18^th street some 30+ years ago. Having moved 4 times in 2 years—I remember clearly telling my husband that I would never move again. I meant it! I wouldn’t! “If this house falls down on top of me—I am still staying,” I reinforced.

                I hated to move. Walking up steps with 150 pounds in tow is not a pretty sight to see. And from me, it’s not a pretty thing to hear either. The “bad” words just come out of me from nowhere. “Dear Lord, if you’ve ever had to move a house full of everything, I think you will forgive me for saying all of those “bad words”. Please do!”

                The move was extremely hard for me because my husband passed away some 4-1/2 years ago. He, like me, never threw anything away. Really! He just never did. But neither did I. Every closet in the house was packed. The storage room was overflowing and the garage was full of whatever we couldn’t get into the closets or storeroom. Under the beds we found hidden wonders and the entire yard was full of patio furniture that had endured this West Texas Wind and Sand for quite some time.

                I’ll say it again, “Moving has to be among the worst experience anyone can encounter.” It drains your body, your energy, your soul, but it also fills your mind. That is, it feels your mind with great memories.

                Every item I picked up to be moved seemed to have a precious memory or a story with it. I recall saying things like, “My sister gave me this for my 16^th birthday” or “This was the coat my husband wore the day I met him some 40 years ago”, or “This was the sprig of hair my mother cut and saved for me before I left the hospital after my childbirth”. Every drawer, every piece of clothing, every knickknack had a meaning and purpose in my life. I wanted to keep them all, of course.

                “How difficult could it be?” I asked. I only had to move them 4 blocks away. I could do that with my eyes closed. But my eyes were never closed. As I worked through the first day, my eyes and my boxes of memories grew.

                One box was filled. Then two, then three, then ten. And that’s when it hit me. I knew that I couldn’t keep these things forever. I was moving into the home of my future husband who had a house full of “everything” just as I did. How foolish of me to pack all of these things away that would probably never be used or looked at again.

                So, on box after box we started marking “Take to Thrift Shop”. Things started to move a little faster then. My future husband, Royce Turner, and his daughter Jill worked constantly for 3 days to get the work done. And get her done—they did!

                Royce is one of those individuals who seem to never tire. His daughter Jill, is a chip off the old block. I couldn’t have made it without their help and I thank them and appreciate both of them for all that they did.

                Of course, we didn’t get completely finished. But do you ever really finish a move? There comes a time when you say, “Enough! I’ve just gotta get out of here.” No doubt, the new owners will love that old freezer we left in the garage and probably even the ladder we left on the roof.

                With the move behind us and the wedding complete, life is a little calmer now. The honeymoon is over and we are back every day at our favorite place, the Bailey County Senior Center, enjoying the people and our activities there.

                As I reflect on all that has happened in the last few weeks, the move was the most stressful. Yes, even more stressful than the wedding.

                As I look back, I realize what made it all so stressful wasn’t what the move did to me but the attitude I brought to the move and my reaction to that attitude.

                Oh, but the things I have learned from this very last move. Yes, that’s right—my very last move! I told my husband that I would never ever move again. I meant it! I wouldn’t! If this house falls down on top of me, I’m still staying here! If you have any doubts to what I am saying, just check back with me in about 20 years!