Moving is Like Popping a Zit

Well this post was supposed to go up two weeks ago when I actually moved. But since this is me it of course didn't happen. I was packing up all my stuff to move back home for my college experience and as I was packing I kept thinking about all the people that I had met and grown close to and how hard it would be to leave. It was also a time when I was breaking all the rules that the dermatologist and my mother had told me and was popping some zits. Now some might say how is popping a zit really going to be compared to moving? Well I'll tell you.

Sometimes moving is easy and your ready for it and it's not a big deal. That's the zit that's ready to pop. Then there's the emotional move. Where everywhere you look there are memories. You look around campus you see the library that you think you spent to much time in but in reality you know you didn't spend nearly as much time in there as you should have. There's the memory of leaving your apartment and seeing people you know as you walk to class and saying hi becomes part of a daily ritual and then seeing someone you don't know and you text your roommates saying, "I just saw the cutest guy." There's the painful but joyous memory of standing on stage being acknowledged for a solo with the wind ensemble knowing that it's your final concert with many of the people on stage and that there is a very slim chance of playing the oboe with the two girls who have been you partners in crime in the band room for the last two years. There's the memory of finals week when you know you should be studying a little more diligently but instead you and your roommates drag your mattresses to the living room to see how many new movies you can watch with your roommates that you've never seen before. It's making a mess with those same roommates in the kitchen on Sunday just because you haven't learned certain kitchen skills yet. (Example: Hot liquid+ a blender= a mess all over your kitchen). It's looking at people you've worked with for six months and wondering if they'll even remember the difference you've tried to make in their lives. And last but not least it's standing up in the ward that's been your family away from home and looking around at the pulpit knowing that most of the people in the ward you wont see again despite how good of friends you are. These are the kind of memories that make moving seem like a "deep" zit. The kind that you have to push really hard on to get out and it hurts when it does come out. It's the kind of zit that sometimes scabs and scars after it pops.

But there is always the future to look forward too. As Anne Shirley from Anne of Green Gables would say, the roots of my life have been dug up and transplanted. But I think with being transplanted you learn how much you've really grown and how much more you can grow.