My post is late today. Please accept my apologies, but the movers came today. Every time the movers come I envy the people who live the same place all of their lives, the ones who have had the same deep-freezer for 15 years, the same neighbors and the same friends.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my girlfriends in Ghana with a note and a gift that I hope they will wear and think of me and then today, the movers came.
It is interesting to see the differences in my children's reactions when the movers come. My son won't eat; my daughter's suitcase has been packed for a week.
When people ask me "are you moving to the US for good?" they have no idea what a difficult question that is. The answer varies from "I have no idea" to (as my daughter would say, 'no offence but ...') "I hope not." I'm not in a witness protection program, but I have 12 moved times in the last 25 years to different countries and different homes within these countries and I have no idea what it means to live anywhere 'for good'. I only know that each new place is a new page in our lives and each place brings with it important live lessons.
What does this have to do with writing? Nothing really, it is just what is real for me because the movers came today. I would love to say that traveling and seeing the world has strengthened my ability to write realistically about new places, but the truth is that our imaginations (and a bit of research) can take us as far as we need to go to write wonderfully interesting, inciteful and realistic stories.