The Last Move

Living in the Desert with House Horses with Names

I did not realize how much of adult life can be measured in moving boxes until I looked back and counted the states.

I was born and raised in Florida. It was the place where I learned to drive, learned to work, and eventually met Chris. For a long time, I assumed I would live there forever.

Then, at age 35 and a half, and yes, the half matters when you are doing something slightly terrifying, I left.

Since then, Chris and I have slowly worked our way across the country. Indiana. Ohio. North Carolina. Now Arizona. Five states total if you count the Florida starting point.

Every move begins the same way. Optimism. You tell yourself this one will be easier because you have done it before. You confidently label boxes. You swear you will finally create a sensible filing system.

Then six months later, you are still wondering where the good grocery store is and why the DMV requires seventeen documents and possibly a blood sample.

Moving has a funny way of making life feel temporary. Even when things are good, there is always a quiet voice that says this might not be the final stop.

But when we landed in Chandler, something shifted.

The desert has a strange beauty to it. The sunsets look like someone spilled a box of highlighters across the sky. The winters feel like a reward for surviving adulthood. The friends we have made here have slowly turned this place into something more than just another address.

Even the dogs seem to approve. Our Velcro Great Danes have fully embraced Arizona life and now enjoy lying in the lounge chairs by the pool like they personally pay the mortgage.

At some point recently, Chris and I had a conversation that felt surprisingly final.

We are not moving again.

Not for a job. Not for a new adventure. Not because some real estate listing convinces us that a different zip code will improve our lives.

After five states and countless boxes, we have decided that this is the last stop.

The next time we leave this house, it will be feet first and someone else will be in charge of the packing.

Until then, we are staying right here.