I have moved more times
Than I care to remember.
New ceilings to stare at
New routes to take
New habits to make
And of course, new faces.
I find that the first weeks of transition
Are the most disorienting.
I reach for familiar things in familiar places
Only to be reminded that life has changed.
In the midst of this, a question haunts me;
“Which parts of who I am
Only existed because of where I used to live,
And who will I become now that I am here?”
Perhaps one of the most dreadful things
About the place where you live
Is how quietly, yet powerfully it shapes who you are.
How the details of your physical location
Naturally fade into the background
Of the humdrum of daily life,
All the while setting the stage
For life as we know it.