Personal Essay

What My Moving Boxes Taught Me About Embracing Change

And how to greet it like an old friend

Our life together, neatly stacked. Photo by author.

It feels strange to be comforted by the presence of plastic bins, packing paper, and miscellaneous belongings strewn about.

I realized this in the morning as I drank my coffee, four days before moving out of the Texas apartment my boyfriend and I share.

Moving hasn’t yet felt novel to me. On the contrary, unpacking paper from empty boxes only to carefully cradle my things in it and place back in the box feels like I’m greeting an old friend, whose visits are a bit different each time.

Woah, we’re out again so soon! Where are we going next? I imagine them cooing.

I had always subscribed to the general “moving sucks” narrative —and it does. But as I move again and again, I’ve learned how to garner energy from the categorical chaos.

Did you already pack the Q-Tips?

Should we vacuum seal a foam mattress topper?

How can we have this many hangers???

Something clicks in me. It’s like a central nerve is struck and my “moving mode” instinct overrides all of my brain’s unoccupied space. Rather than sweetly admiring the decor I’ve carefully curated…