Followers of this blog would know: I recently moved.
And I could not have done it with my good friends. I don’t have many of them, but the few friends I do have I consider equally as dear as my family. The successful move out of my parents’ house reminded me just how awesome it is to have help from others.
Admittedly, I am a bit of a lone ranger when it comes to things: I prefer to go at it myself. It’s not like I see asking for help as a sign of weakness, it’s just that I’ve always had this mentality that in asking for assistance, I am being a huge bother to people. This is going to sound like I am blaming my mother: she’s the type of person who doesn’t like to owe anyone anything, and is quick to return a favor. She treats relationship with others as somewhat transactional, and some of that no doubt rubbed off on me.
So I was genuinely surprised and a bit taken-back when, without prompting, my friends offers their services to help me move. Things I would have done myself, like renting a van to haul my mattress, was taken care of voluntarily by my friends. In the case of the mattress, one of them had a Tesla Model S with a big enough boot to swallow the entire thing whole. Another friend - who happens to be the home owner I am renting from - saved me a trip to IKEA and got the bed-frame and bookshelves I needed. Yet another friend pitched in to ferry items from one house to the other, and assisted with building said bed-frame and bookshelves.
My stoic exterior belies how immensely moved I was by their gesture. My friend literally cut the time needed to complete the move by magnitudes. We started at 9 AM in the morning, and by noon the major move and build was complete, leaving me the afternoon to unpack and get my things into place.
If they are reading this: you guys are awesome! Thank you so much, with all sincerity.
Walking with the sunset.