We moved a lot when I was a kid, mostly between three different states and two countries. With my parents I have lived in California (Oakland, Berkeley, Orinda, Moraga, Rheem, and Walnut Creek), Connecticut (Stamford, and twice in Old Greenwich), Texas (Houston area, three different places), and Venezuela (Caracas).
On my own I have added Miami, Coral Gables, Key West, Micanopy, and Gainesville (all in Florida), Tucson, Corpus Christi (three different places), Salamanca, Spain and a wide spot in the road in Ecuador, near Santo Domingo de Los Colorados.
The first move I didn’t notice because I was a “babe in arms.” However, the next few were a bit disruptive to my social life. We also discovered during move #3 that packers are not always honest or smart. They broke our piggy banks and took the money, but wrapped the broken pieces up and packed them. I always hated to find out what the movers broke (or took).
We moved so often that by the time I was 12 I was in charge of the packers (my mom would go hide and read), and by the time I was 16 I supervised the whole thing once my mom selected the moving company and the date.
The worst thing about moving to me is not having the money to hire packers and movers. As an adult I have moved several times on my own, and I will never do that again. Hence I have been in my current house for 13 years, and plan to be hear at least another 20 or maybe 30. However, I can see from my daughter’s experience that I missed out on the long-lasting friendships. I never had them so I never realized what I might be missing. I also never learned how to conduct Spring cleaning. Instead of doing that we simply told the packers what not to pack and so shed our unwanted possessions that way.
OTOH, I have been exposed to all sorts of living situations, cultures, peoples and places, and have learned to make myself at home very quickly no matter where I am.