New places

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.

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