Every Move Is Different: A Life Lived in Transit (By Simone Percy)

The First Move: Childhood in Motion

I was young, too young to understand what “Abu Dhabi” meant. One day I was playing in a familiar garden, and the next I was learning to say “hello” in a language that sounded like music and mystery. My parents were the navigators, and I was the wide-eyed passenger.

Children adapt quickly, they say. And it’s true. I learned to make friends with anyone who had a swing set. But even then, I sensed the bittersweetness of goodbyes. The thrill of newness always came with the ache of leaving something behind.

The Second Move: Newlywed Adventures

Fast-forward to my twenties, suitcase in one hand, husband in the other (and a container of ‘just married stuff’). We were young, optimistic, and slightly delusional about how easy it would be. We thought love would conquer all, including customs paperwork and dodgy rental contracts.

We learned fast: IKEA furniture is not available in every country, and navigating the local markets for a chair that you would actually put on show and not hide under a blanket can be challenging. That you can cry over a broken kettle if it’s the only thing that made your new flat feel like home. That laughter, especially the kind that comes after getting lost for the fifth time, is the glue that holds you together.

We built a life from scratch, in a place where we were both foreigners. And somehow, that made us feel more like a team than ever.

The Third, fourth, fifth and sixth Move: Family in Tow (Dogs, Cars, Chaos)

Then came the move with kids. And dogs. And a car that had the steering wheel on the wrong side, making the navigation of single-lane roads with high hedges a knuckle-clenching journey…every day! This wasn’t just a relocation; it was a full-blown logistical operation.

Moving with a family is like conducting an orchestra while juggling flaming batons. You’re managing school enrolments, vet records, toy negotiations, and the emotional rollercoaster of tiny humans who miss their old bedroom (and you discover at your new place, have also been skip diving for all their old teddies that you thought you’d thrown out).

But it’s also magical. You get to watch your children become global citizens. You see them learn empathy, resilience, and how to order ice cream in three languages. You discover that your dog can, in fact, adapt to kangaroos instead of bunnies. And you realise that home isn’t a place, it’s the people (and pets) you bring with you.

The Seventh and Eighth Move: Flying Solo

And then, life shifted again. I moved as a single woman. No partner, no kids, no convoy of crates. Just me, a 20’ container of accumulated detritus, life memories and the world’s most comfortable bed.

This move was different. It was quieter, but also louder in its own way. I had space to rediscover myself. To choose a flat based on proximity to coffee shops instead of school zones. To say yes to spontaneous dinners and no to furniture that required a second pair of hands.

I found strength in solitude. I found joy in independence. I found community in unexpected places; I discovered that walking in all season can be therapeutic, have brolly and a pair of wellies handy.