I want to be good at moving because I envision my life hop-scotching through area codes. I want to be flexible because beyond scheduled routine is a multitude of completely accidental, thrilling adventures.
I want to be able to admit my fears because they are vast, but no more real or dominant than supreme happiness.
The reality of it is, I'm not leaving on a jetplane only to return wide-eyed in six months, fully ready to fall back in love with Indianapolis and its people (my people). I am putting all my belongings in boxes, sorting what I want from what should be donated or sold, and moving. Indefinitely.
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But I can't bring myself to be sad, or nervous or even my go-to emotion, WORRIED. This is splendid. And as soon as we get a P.O. Box, I want some snail mail!
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