The Art of Moving

I consider myself a nomad. I am constantly moving around, living in different places, with hundreds of clothes in bins and luggages everywhere.

If I am being honest, I don’t mind it. I love traveling and being on the move. 

It all started when I moved to the United States. Most of you already know this story. So here is a small recap for those who don't. I moved to the United States with my mother and sister when I was 8 years old. My dad already lived here. We came and moved into my grandmother's house with my aunt and uncle.

The apartment was a one-bedroom apartment. They had divided the living room into 2 rooms. My dad and uncle slept in a bunk bed in one of the partitioned rooms. My mother joined my dad in the bottom bunk when we moved in. My sister and I moved into my grandmother's bedroom, which she shared with my aunt. Living in that apartment came with many challenges which I will share with you some other time in another vlog.  

Fast forward a few months later, we moved into another one-bedroom apartment a few blocks away from where my grandmother lived. Once again we partitioned the living room and turned it into a bedroom for my sister and me. We loved our small bedroom because it was our space and we could have decorated it however we wanted to unlike at my grandma's crib.  

A few months into living in that apartment, my mother tells us she is expecting. I was thrilled. For as long as I can remember, I always wanted another sibling. I remember constantly asking my mother if we were ever going to have another sibling. She always said, "Cuando nos mudemos y tengamos nuestros propio espacio" (Whenever we move and have our own space.) 

Once my brother was born, he moved into my parent's room for the first year. After that, they moved him into my sister's and I's room. Excited to have a new roommate, but devastated for having to share my space, I welcomed him into the room with a bittersweet feeling. 

As we all grew up and I noticed we were running out of space, I decided to go away for college. I needed room, more space, and a new setting.

Fast forward to freshman year. My parents, friends, and some family members took me to college. This moving transition went very smoothly because everyone helped carry my boxes and bins to and from the cars. After that, they helped me unpack and put things away in my new home. My first semester at college was very nice. 

Throughout my college career, I moved around 4 more times to different buildings, and even to another country. I moved to West in the quad for my sophomore year.  During half of my junior year, I moved to a suite in McCullough. The other half of the year I moved to France to study abroad. (You can only imagine how that moving transition went. I had to pack for 2 different seasons, in only 2 bags.) Senior year I moved to Putney. 

As the years passed, I became quicker with the moving. Knowing how to better separate what I needed from what I didn't, and how to perfectly fit the trunk of my car made the transition easier. Since I always had help packing and moving things around, this added some calm to an already chaotic event.

My next move out of college was moving into the home I lived at in Needham. That move was a bit challenging because I realized that I had accumulated so many things throughout college that I had to do a couple of back-and-forths to get all my things from college to my new home. Luckily the drive between both locations was about 5 minutes.

Of all the moves that I have gone through, the most recent one has been the hardest. Mainly, because I did all the packing on my own. I started packing about 2 weeks before my move-out date and it took me hours upon hours each afternoon.

On this particular move, I had to be very strategic about what to keep for my remaining days in MA versus what I needed to store for a few years. During my packing days, I held a yard sale to sell most of my things. The things that didn't sell, I gave them away to the Vietnam Veterans.

Since I was not taking Ruby (my car) with me, a few trips from MA to NY took place. My sister's boyfriend (who is a Godsend. May God bless his soul and protect him every day) was in town. He packed his car to the brim and took a bunch of my things into the city. A few days later, I met with one of my aunts in Connecticut. Her nephew and my mom helped me move the remainder of my things from my car into hers.

Now, my next move is in a couple of days. Packing for this one has been somewhat horrific. I am moving away for 2 years. I am taking 2 checked-in bags on a plane. At the moment they are both overweight, one is over 6 pounds and the other is over 10. For those that don't know, I am an over-packer to the T. I tend to always pack extra just in case. 

I am constantly reminding myself to only take ESSENTIAL things that I truly need. Like people have been living there for centuries and are still surviving.

Before I let you go, I want to tell you a little about where I will be moving. It is a small country with many little islands. Half of the year it is the wet season. Their main language is English. However, in the villages, they speak their native language.

This upcoming Sunday, I will embark on a life-changing journey. I will be flying from NY to LA to meet the rest of the volunteers. On Monday night, we will fly out as a group to our country of service. I am beyond thrilled for this new season of my life and I cannot wait to share it with you.

Where am I heading? Last hint: It is near Australia :)

Thank you for giving me the time of day to read this piece. If you have any questions regarding anything do not hesitate to ask me. If you have any suggestions or want me to talk about a specific topic, either hit the chat or email me :)

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Stay tuned for my next blog -> She’s An Island Gurl… again :)

XOXO Yerika