Previous to my current address, I lived a fairly transient existence. The life of a student is just like that. You live for eight months in a bland but cheap apartment, move home, work or travel for a couple of months, and then its back to the old grind again. I can't count the number of apartments that I've rented, nor the houses that I shared with friends. It was generally a good time, but with a child, I found the need for stability.

We've lived in this particular apartment for almost 2 years now. It's bland but cheap, and it is only the price that is keeping me here. I'm not particularly fond of the area (I used to live downtown, now I don't), but it is a safe place to live. I have my own parking space, and all the lawn mowing and snow shoveling is done for me, so that's good. My daughter has her own room, and we have space for all our stuff.

But it's getting to be that time of year. I don't know if it's the wishing for spring to arrive, but I'm starting to do a lot of cleaning. Organizing old clothing, toys, books, and papers. The unfortunate thing, is that I don't want to just organize, but to begin to gather cardboard boxes together, and start packing all of my things into them.

Who really loves moving? Nobody, I hope. It's a pain in the ass. Invariably, the weather sucks the day that you move. It's either a heat wave, raining or snowing. You're already grumpy because, usually you are in a rush to get from one place to the next. There's never enough people to help move; all the people who have agreed to show up, don't. Or else they do at around the same time that the last box goes into the new place, and it's not usually a box of belongings, but a box of beer. Bastards. And the friends, the good friends who have helped are calling you a bastard in return for having so much stuff.

But, once that last box is inside, you get to relax. In a new place. There's promise there. Promise of a new start in life, and a chance to really live up to your desires. This new place might become the place where your friends will want to visit, because it's got a great balcony, but better yet, a home-like feeling. This new place doesn't hold bad memories like the old one does; it's a clean slate. You have a new perspective here, the smell of new paint reminds you of it. You get to meet new neighbors, and you have a whole new view from your living room window.

I'm not going to move. I'm going to stay. But, I think, I want to try to recapture that feeling of promise. That promise that anything is possible, that anything can happen. I want to remember that chances don't just arise from a change in location, but a change from inside.

Promise and possibility... something to look forward to.