The Art of Moving

I didn’t blog yesterday.

It wasn’t because of any deep reason, other than the fact that I forgot.

If I blog right before bed, I’ll do it on my phone so I don’t have to set up my laptop and annoy my trying-to-sleep roommates. Well, last night I thought I had something else to do, but then I was praying and then I was sleeping and no blogging happened before, after, or in between any of those things.

My sister reminded me of something today. She wrote a blog post about how this day nine years ago my family and I moved house for the first time.

Nine years.

Whenever I think back to when I moved house for the first time, I think of it as being ‘four or five years ago’. But nine!? I was eleven (and very cute) and so much younger than I am now. I’m currently twenty, and in the community I live in I’m constantly reminded that I am definitely one of the ‘young people’, and one of the ‘youngest young people’. But looking back to when my family moved house, I feel pretty old right now.

I’m glad we moved. A lot of things happened, most not positive, from when I was 11 to 15 years old, but I see the move itself as a good thing, and am thankful to my parents for doing it. Whether or not we had moved, my early teenage years would have held struggles one way or another. They just so happened to exist in a new town.

Do you ever look at your life and just think ‘this is mine’? Today I was standing on my balcony, looking out at the large gardens and all the roses, and it was my life. Today I was walking through the supermarket and I could smell all the mangoes and it was my life. Today I remembered my earlier years and I couldn’t change any of what happened back then and it was my life.

I am a person with a life, and it weirds me out sometimes that everyone has a life as deep and complex and unknown as mine. I can feel sad looking back at the sucky moments, but so can anyone. I can feel happy looking back at the good moments, and what may bring a smile to my face will not bring a smile to someone else, because my life is not theirs and my memories are not always theirs.

There are some things in my life that I regret doing, but I am learning that there are more things in my life to praise God for.

Sarah xx

P.S. I’m going out to brunch tomorrow and I’m very keen.

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