Apparently, most people don’t move all that often in their lifetimes. I was reminded of this the other day when the topic of moving came up among friends my age.
Most of them had only relocated a handful of times across more than half a century. The person with the most moves had been through it maybe five times — when their parents built a house, for school, after graduation, marriage, and upgrading for a growing family. One person had never left their childhood home.
By contrast, I’ve moved over twenty-five times. Do the math, and that’s roughly once every two years.
The first move was a midnight escape after my parents’ business collapsed.
Later, my parents told me not to come back, and I crashed at a friend’s place for a long stretch. College in Tokyo, a rural university in the States, subletting in the heart of New York. Back in Japan, I bounced between rental apartments close to work. Marriage, then divorce — each required a move. I found work in Southeast Asia and lived there for a few years.
Bought a condo, sold it, moved again. Most recently, I became determined to live in a regional city in Japan, so I decided to move there, despite not having any local ties or knowing a single person.
I’ve lost count of the exact number. Let’s call it at least twenty-five.
Is it that I can’t settle down? A lack of staying power? I’m not entirely sure, but I’ve always thought of this lightness on my feet as one of my better qualities. I’ve never disliked it.
My friends shake their heads and ask, “All those moves — what’s the point?”
I tell them it keeps me unburdened, unattached to things. Every city feels like I’m traveling through. They smile and tilt their heads, bemused. One of them said, “Like duckweed. Kind of nice, actually.”
Duckweed. A plant with no roots in the soil. I liked the comparison.
Even without anchoring into the ground, even when the wind carries it away, it absorbs water in unfamiliar places, spreads its leaves, photosynthesizes, and lives — for now, at least. If conditions are right, it sprouts something new. That’s exactly how I live.
I’ve been in this city for nearly two and half years now. Where will I move next, and why? I don’t know. Duckweed probably doesn’t know what tomorrow holds, either.
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