On the Move, Again...

I got the job and the great move has begun. I won't know the specifics of my location and position until mid-late May, but the job was offered and I accepted. Loosing my only source of income certainly made the decision easier to make, but I still lay awake at night wondering what kind of crazy person drags their family across the ocean for work?

Unlike my husband, my family only moved home a few times during my childhood. Even when work was a long way away, we didn't move far, opting instead for obscene commutes across the country. My husband is reassuring, reminding me of his gloriously internationalized youth, all the while glossing over the obvious difficulties that came with being the only white kid on the island. It doesn't help when younger individuals in the program, unburdened by relationships and children, get that uncomfortable look of panic upon learning my situation. "Oh. A toddler. In Japan. Won't that be... difficult?" Bunch of sissies. Toddlers are difficult regardless of location. Though I'm not above expressing relief that it will be my husband, not I, making the international flight with a toddler.

The most daunting part isn't the reality of raising my kid in Japan for a few years, it's the preparation for the move. There's a lot of paperwork and trips to the post office and the slow process of emptying out every drawer and box in the house and assigning a new home: keep, sell, give, toss. There's so much of our life and passions squirreled away in our home. But I am ruthless. The lid is removed, the objects fondly remembered, held for one last time, then chucked. I saved a lot last time I went abroad. Two years later a lot had changed, and none of the things hoisted upon my mother held much appeal. With the birth of a child and much, much less personal time I haven't acquired quite the stash this time, but by nature my husband and I are collectors (or hoarders, depending who you talk to). Fabric, yarn, trinkets, memorabilia, movies, books, photos... the leftovers of life filed away just in case. And then there's all that kid junk that piles up and multiplies the moment you give birth.

As we dispose of our stuff I've come to realize the appeal of the potlatch. There's something rather freeing about owning less. More than that there's a great amount of satisfaction in sharing a loved item with a friend, or making someones day with a much needed gift. Hopefully at the end of this we'll be down to two suitcases and perhaps a box or two to mail. Know anyone who needs anything? I've got some stuff to offload.