Is this what moving feels like?

I asked Les the other day if he felt like it had sunk in for him yet that we have actually moved -- our old house belongs to another person, we live 8 hours away from where we used to live, a couple states separate us from all of our Michigan family and friends, we are the people who have accents to the locals, etc. He and I both agreed that our brains hadn't fully absorbed the information yet.

We had been talking about one of our favorite little movie theatres in the Detroit area, the Redford Theatre (Please go check it out sometime if you are in Detroit; it's fabulous! If nothing else, at least attend the Three Stooges Festival!). In our minds, we just hadn't been to the Reford for a while, but we could still go at any time. There was no "grieving" feeling that we had left this wonderful place behind forever and would probably never go there again. It just seems like we haven't gotten around to going there recently.

And I wondered if this was what moving feels like forever -- you just haven't seen someone in a while, or you haven't been to that restaurant for a few months, or the weather has been so oddly sunny lately. Or is there a period of time a year down the road where you finally realize that a certain experience has come to an end and life will never be that way again, and you feel sad or relieved or stressed?

I'm sure that it is different for everyone. I have known people who were really torn up about leaving a house or a town, and agonized about their decision for months before making a move. I have never felt that way myself. Partly because I am always excited about the possibilities that lay ahead, and partly because I know that, if I really wanted to, I could always go back to what I have left behind. So far, however, I've always chosen moving forward to moving back.