Monday, January 7, 2013

Moving is hard

And I'm not even the one doing it.

Today, I spend about 8 hours at my mom's new place, helping her unpack the unholy amount of boxes and try to clear any sort of room in the apartment, and damn, was that tiring.

My mom has had a sort of floating lifestlye recently, living between canada, california, oregon, and tacoma throughout the last few years, but always with friends or in other similar situations.

Thinking about her and her life can be really hard for me (that sentence sounds really selfish) because there are so many different ways I feel about her.  Especially at this point in my life, where, as an adult, I can try to accept her as she is and see how she was as a parent more clearly.

I love her more than anything, but sometimes, it's just hard to be with her because our personalities are so different.  Or, more accurately, I have the personality I do today because of hers and how I grew up.

She always left the house late and sped.  I always leave early and am a very cautious driver.
She has a personality made for networking and meeting people.  I become incredibly nervous meeting new people.
She can get incredibly sensitive and lets it show. like a pices.
I am overly sensitive with such a hardened shell that you would never know it.  like a virgo(/scorpio rising.)

and countless other examples.

I'm driving back down to tacoma tomorrow to help her move some more things and clear more space so she can just go through the boxes and figure out what to donate/throw out.

Lastly, I brought my camera with me today, but realized after she picked me up that I forgot the sd chip in my computer, so instead I leave you with some more photos of the westwind trip from this year.







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