Everyone has the experience of falling. In the end, it is usually no big deal: you fall, you scrape your hand or your knee, and you forget about it. But there is always one moment when you realize that your immediate reactions have failed, and you are now hurtling uncontrollable downward. You get an empty feeling in your stomach as your realize that your are out of control, and do not know where you will land or how much it will hurt. The feeling only lasts an instant, but it is one of the most helpless and scary feelings in the world.
Moving is kind of like that. The feeling is less intense, of course, because you do know where you are going, and there is no sudden pain associated with a sudden fall. It does seem, however, similar to me. After 8 previous moves, I still feel it, and probably more intensely this time than any of the others. At least on the other occasions, I had a clear destination, and I usually knew what I was going to be doing when I got there. In my present case, the uncertainty is greatly enhanced because I don't have any idea where I will end up. I hope it will be in Virginia, but that's not clear, and it's pretty broad in any case. I don't know what kind of job I will end up with, or even if I will have a job at all. We're living in my parents' second house, which is fully furnished with their things. Most of our belongings are still in Georgia in storage, so I don't even have the (admittedly weak) comfort of knowing that, although I may not be able to find something I need, at least it is in a box somewhere. And now I am staying in Chesapeake during the workweek, leaving my wife to look after our kids on her own (and they are a handful).
It's not all bad. I'm glad to have a job, and I'm very glad to be back in Virginia and to have a chance to see my friends and family more. But I don't think I'll get rid of that feeling in my stomach until we have found a permanent place to stay and permanent occupations.
Silly song idea: "I'm a Bad Buoy (Leading Your Boat to Danger)."