As a child we moved around a lot. There weren't any real reasons, or non-reasons that I know of. Just life taking hold of my young mother and propelling us to a new destination. There was a brief period when we lived in one house for 6 years. After that, never did we live in a home for longer than 2 years. And never did I mind the moving.
My mother was selfless when we moved. Being the oldest, I always had first dibs on the best bedroom in the house, or in some cases, the only bedroom. With new homes came new schools and I became proficient at either making friends quickly or becoming invisible slowly. Both worked. For many reasons I had been enrolled in eight schools in twelve years. Going to college, the same college for four, okay five, okay six years was certainly a record (come on, I did one year of Grad school, cut me some slack).
But moving gets into your blood. I don't even mind the packing. So, if you've been playing the game you may know that we had a near miss with moving in a big way to Colorado. Ahh, but here we are, and that's good news. Roots have begun to grow. I see them. Feel them taking shape beneath my toes, and the toes of my sweet babes.
But I must admit excitement at going house shopping tomorrow. Imagining our furniture and footprints in each room is such a sweet and comfy place for the mind. Heaven for a wanderer like me. But I'm ready to stop wandering, and watch the trees around me grow, bloom, and fill out. I'm ready to make marks on the wall where my children stood at each milestone.
Maybe we'll find our dream home tomorrow. Maybe not. But the looking and imagining is almost the best part. San Diego is my home, our home. I doubt we will question that again. The journey ahead is one I will watch form and take place, like the trees around me. Slowly. Purposefully. Peacefully.