Sitting at the real estate agent’s office today, the nice lady selling her old house to us was telling us what a pain it was to move. But that, fortunately, she hadn’t had to do that very often. That’s when my wife jumped in with the facts*.

(* Still unverified).

“I’ve heard that a person moves about seven times in his lifetime, on average,” she said.

And that’s when they lost me. (My eyes had already glazed over from seeing the final price of the house printed, and spelled out in the contract, IN CAPS. Note to self: Add PayPal donation button to the sidebar).

I just couldn’t let that little info pass me by without checking if I was an average person. So, I was staring at the ceiling, counting the different places I’ve lived, with the help of my my fingers, mouthing each city and street out loud – but very quietly. My total was 11.

That total includes moves to different cities in Finland, within Helsinki in Finland, a move to Sweden, a move back to Finland, another move to Sweden, and a few moves in Stockholm. I have moved to the same apartment, twice, first as a six-year-old, and then as a 26-year-old (and yes, my parents had moved out, we all did when I was 13).

Oddly, since I moved to Sweden, and Stockholm in particular, I’ve lived my whole Swedish life in three different apartments that are within a 600 meter radius of each other. (And my nine years around here is a long time, I’ve only lived longer in one Helsinki neighborhood, and that, like I said, in two stretches, as a kid and as a grown-up).

I see my first Swedish apartment every day when I walk to the grocery store, and every once in a while I make a little detour to walk on the parking lot of that house. Because, I don’t know why, I don’t remember what it was like to live there. I only have some sporadic and vague memories – first night with no electricity except for the fan above the stove, and lying on a mattress (no sheets), reading printouts from the job; rocking to “Old Time Rock’nRoll”; doing laundry in the basement – but nothing that really stands out.

I don’t really remember what it was like to live with J at our first place together, either. That one was about 600 meters from my first place. I know that we rode our bikes to work, I remember the neighbours, where our storage was, but again, nothing extraordinary.

It gets worse with our place in Helsinki. I have a lot of great memories – and a lot of just strong memories – but what was it like to live there on an average Tuesday? Pretty good … I guess.

All I know is that I’ve loved living at each place. I’ve really enjoyed our current place – 300 meters from my first place – which really feels like a home.

It won’t be in a week. Next week, my wife and I, our kids, my office, and my 40+ hats move to the other side of the city, some ten kilometers from here.

For me, it’s another universe. For my wife, it’s a move almost back to her old hood. For us as a couple, it’ll be our fourth move in ten years.

And I can’t wait.