Detail.

When I was growing up, I dreamed about being lots of things; a concert pianist, a music therapist, a boss of lots of people. These dreams helped me hone my God-given talents and abilities and, as I got older, I developed other strengths that put me in the career I’ve had for years now. However, even with my organizational skills and desires to be in charge, I have discovered that I would never, ever want to be a professional mover. Those abilities go way beyond my skill set, and you have to have the patience of Job in order to do the job effectively.

My first time to remember moving was when I got married. We moved in to a 14 by 60 mobile home on an acre of land. Heaven on earth! We had a hand-me-down couch that had a small place where the spring showed through, but it wasn’t an issue — we covered it with a hand made colorful afghan. Pretty much everything was given to us as wedding gifts. Moving in brand new stuff in to our brand new trailer was amazing. Everything had a place, and we still had room to spare.

Fast forward to living it that same 14 by 60 trailer with two kids. There was zero room to spare, and organization, while still intact, just didn’t make for any more space. We moved to a three bedroom, two bath duplex when Fancy was still quite young and we, again, had room to spare. It was so great. Time to add another child to the mix. It was a great place to raise kids, but when you take that space, add in all the stuff three growing kids have with them, an entire football team that came over regularly to eat, watch WWE, etc., we were again out of room, so we moved again.

With each move, I noticed that we made as many trips to the dumpsters as we did to the new place. Let me tell you right now: I’m not a hoarder. If I haven’t used something in a “season,” I don’t see the need to keep it (unless, of course, it’s decorations or has familial sentimental value). Why did I need the earth tone-colored mushroom salt and pepper shaker set someone gave us back in 1980? Answer: I didn’t. To the trash. (Sorry if you’re the person who gave those to us; we really did love them... back in 1982).

With packing to move, my organizational skills start out strong and I’m in my happy place. I will wrap each Christmas plate, place it neatly and gently in to the box, label it “Christmas dishes — FRAGILE!” I hum a little tune as I pack box after box after box after box...

But, at some point during moving, I have found that the joy of organization leaves me and my patience removes itself from my being. Things begin to be thrown in a box and, just when you think you’re done, you open a drawer in the master bedroom and there’s more stuff. You throw it in the box that you just threw the stuff from the kitchen in, tape it up, and mark it “miscellaneous” and move on.

Jerry and I have only moved four times since saying “I do.” However, between three children going to college and moving every year because of the new “move-in specials” at a new apartment complex, I think we have about 15 plus “other” moves under out belt, and the older I get, the more I still get that organizational “breath of fresh air” when we first begin the moving process, but as we get mid-way through, I get that “throw it in a box and label it ‘miscellaneous’” mindset even stronger.

This has all helped me make a life-changing decision, however. Jerry and I are staying put in our house and the next time one of our children needs to move, I will gladly write them a check for a professional moving company to pack them and move them. They can invite me over when everything is put up and I will listen, with a smile on my face, as they tell me about “all the extra storage space” they have.

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— Dawn Dillard is a proud East Texas gal who loves all things southern especially cooking, music and family. She can be reached via email at DLDplays88@aol.com.