When my daughter was 5, she loved “Mermaid”. She never called her Ariel, just Mermaid. The character was on everything she had. She moved on to the color pink. That was a thing for a while. Pink no longer exists on her color wheel. She has stricken it from existence. I guess she burned out. My other daughter was a Hannah Montana super fan. She had so many Hannah Montana branded items that I found one in the basement the other day and she is now almost 23. All these years later and we still haven’t managed to purge it all.

    When I was 17, I started answering “Sure, Bill” anytime my answer was yes. What possessed me to say that? I have no idea. I didn’t know anyone named Bill. I was just weird. I am still weird, but at least I answer yes or no questions normally now. A few years later, I developed another really odd habit. The people I was living with at the time picked up on it and do it to this day. I, since then, have figured out how weird it is and have moved on.

     Why do we do that? Why do we latch on to certain things? The practice is part of life, for sure. It provides lots to laugh about as we grow and change. I suppose a good bit of the explanation can be blamed on consumerism. We are lured into commercial traps as soon as we are exposed to screens, right? I know I was. Saturday morning cartoons practically came with a wish list. The rest of the explanation, though, I think has to do with us wanting to enjoy life and feel valued.

     My brother used to own a Jeep. When his second daughter was born I kept his oldest until time to come meet the new family member. He had me just drive his Jeep to the hospital because big girl’s car seat was already installed. I was fine with that until I climbed in and started driving. Jeeps drive weird. They are bouncy and I felt like there was lots of play in the steering. I felt like a little kid pretending to drive who moves the steering wheel back and forth a lot. That was the longest 45 minute drive of my life. And, I had my sweet little niece in the back and my Mother up front. If that ship went down it was going to be a devastating loss. That is what I thought about all the way to the hospital. My chest gets tight just thinking about it again. Until that night, I always thought I would like a Jeep. They are cool. Since I had opportunity to try one out, I now know that is the last vehicle I would want. That is how human life works. The good news is there are infinite possibilities for most everything. If we don’t like one thing, we can move on to the next.

     Maybe it is because of all the trying out and moving on, but I get really attached to locations. I need the safety of a secure location to feel free enough to experiment with the smaller things, like how to answer a yes or no question.

     I went this weekend to one of my secure locations. It has recently been sold and the inhabitants are boxing up the place. I was sad when my grandparent’s house left our family a few years ago. This loss feels much the same. For the last 21 years it has served as home base. I expected to cry all weekend, but when I pulled up I was fine. That confused me. The confusion flipped the analysis switch in my brain to “on”.

     Here is what I have realized. We try and then move on from all kinds of people, places, and things throughout life.  Sometimes that feels like failure, other times it feels like loss, and sometimes it is so insignificant that it doesn’t even move the needle on our feelings. All of those are fine responses to change. Life is fluid. Change is inevitable. A lot of the things we encounter will shape who we become, but we are better served to not tie ourselves to things that are temporal.

        There is nothing at all wrong with being a princess lovin’, pink clad, Hannah Montana fan that answers questions oddly and drives a Jeep to all of her special locations, if that is what you choose. We are a unique people, for sure. Our value just isn’t derived from any of those things. I was tempted this weekend to let the loss of that beloved location make me feel somehow less than myself… like I can’t be me if I can’t go there whenever I feel like it. It just isn’t true. I will just need to find a new place to escape to when life gets stupid. I might even like it better. That is hard to imagine right now, but I am willing to hope for it.

     Meanwhile, I am still me and you are still you when life zigs where we wish it had zagged.