A former co-worker -- a young thing in her early 20s -- is about to move to a new city to start a new job. She's nervous, but excited -- she hasn't lived so far away from her family since college. Everything she's taking with her will fit in a U-haul trailer, her furniture limited to a bed, a desk, and a chair.
Starting from scratch. A clean slate.
I envy her, a little, for that opportunity. If I moved now, I'd have an entire house-full of things to pack, even with the severest pruning. My mortgage/rent would almost certainly double (at least -- probably triple or quadruple, depending on where I was going). And if I moved more than ten miles or so away, I'd have to be renegotiating custody.
But even with all that hassle... There's some appeal. The thought that I could try again, and this time, I'd know what I was looking at. I'd know what to look for. I'd know the value of things, large and small. A chance to cut away the chaff and pare everything down to what's really important.
Exciting. Exhilarating. Stepping out into the void and trusting in your own wings.