Transition To A New Life

I like a move. Oh, I don't exactly relish the tedium of purging, sorting, tossing, or even addressing the stacks of stuff in closets, corners and basements, packing and then the unending unpacking at the other end of the journey. I admit that.

But the part about getting to a new place and facing a fresh new slate of possibilities, starting over clean,  reveling in hope--all that happens in a relocation--I find stimulating. There are those who hate moving and can't imagine how I do it, or why. I can't fully explain. I suppose it's a personality type. I enjoy challenge and change, and new places offer so much to learn--the geography, the history, the culture, and the inevitable eccentricities and characters looming and lurking, as ifwaiting to be discovered anew by the newcomer.

My last move was just exactly five years ago. I relocated from my hometown of Fairhope, Alabama,
to which I'd moved after traveling about the world, to Hoboken. That's right, Frank Sinatra's hometown, Hoboken, New Jersey. I wanted to be near New York City, and Hoboken fit the bill. It was a short bus ride (about 15 minutes, to the Port Authority Bus Terminal, great for Broadway matinees), and just about 10 minutes by subway to Christopher Street in the West Village. Hoboken itself, a 19th century immigrant town, had lovely architecture and interesting history, and gave the feeling of being a neighborhood in Manhattan, even though its waterfront had views of the city skyline.

It isn't easy to leave Hoboken. I'd made friends, found favorite haunts and restaurants, and savored the old-world ease of the picturesque little town, along with its tough American attitude. It's truly a unique place, and one that means a lot to me.

I'm confident that New Paltz will hold treasures for me too. As I write this blog I'll add the missing pieces of the puzzle that brought me here. Tomorrow I find a place to live, and in two weeks I'll move there.