Is there something in the water? Some human version of pon farr?
Some migratory virus has simultaneously taken hold of all of my daughters—and I have four daughters. It could be coincidence, but, on the other hand, maybe something is in the air. Because not only are all of the next generation of dos equis on the move, but their migratory patterns are also eerily similar.
Katy let the way, moving from Marion, Iowa, to Marion, Iowa. Later this summer, Amanda will relocate from Norwich, England, to Norwich, England. Theresa is going all the way from just outside Monticello to inside Monticello. And Nina? On the move, of course. From Omaha, Nebraska, to Omaha, Nebraska.
My family moved a lot while I was growing up, sometimes across town—we relocated in Clinton, Iowa and in Muscatine, Iowa—sometimes across country. We moved from New York to California, so went about as far as it’s possible to go in the lower 48.
Some of my memories of moves are pleasant. I liked the adventure. We rarely ate out as a family unless we were migrating, and I recall how cool it was that restaurant toast came with little packets of grape jelly, or that a “hot turkey sandwich” was a wonderful creation consisting of white bread, white mashed potatoes, white gravy and white meat.
But, for the most part, moves were disruptions. They meant changing schools and learning a new geography and finding out who a whole new set of neighbors were. I am not a fan.
Of course, life happens. As an adult, I’ve moved with my family several times, from Missouri to Iowa and then several times in Iowa.
Sure, moving has some positive aspects. If forces you to get rid of a lot of crap.
But, I’m not wild about moves. Still, my daughters are doing moves that aren’t so traumatic. If you stick within a 4-mile radius, a move doesn’t mean uprooting and resettling so much as shuffling.
But why all at once, darling daughters? And why only daughters? One son is in college, so is a partial transient but only during a normal transient stage of life. The other son is firmly in place in Paraguay, at least for the next year.
The daughters? All of them are on the move. But only a little bit. “Pon farr” rhymes with “not far?” Must be something in the air.