Home. Difficult term for me to define, at least relative to myself. I see others who have the typical home that they’ve purchased and will take 30 years to pay. There is the most common among my friends–renting an apartment close to downtown and filling it with gadgets from IKEA or Target until it looks just like the full spread in that magazine. Then there is the eternal nomad–the person who makes home wherever they go, or never find a home at all and kind of drift through life never settling down.
I am the latter, the girl who can adapt to any place and move around endlessly, almost like a necessity, like a nomad moving on to the next territory in search of food. What am I in search of? I know, but I don’t know. I know what I want but I don’t know where to find it. I don’t know where or when I will feel “at home” again in my life.
Pushing through life with alacrity and passion but not wanting to settle for anything or anyone, I have a fear of being chained to one place, being stuck to one job, one house, one person for the rest of my life. I’m terrified of deciding ONE and ONLY one thing, choosing and then regretting it. No regrets is my motto– easy motto to keep when you don’t commit to anything.
That’s why Ive decided that maybe what I need is a sailboat. A cozy sail boat that I can call my own, that I can introduce people to if I want, that I can sail towards or away from whatever obstacle I claim as my own. Whatever obstacle I decide to embrace or dissolve.
I’m also thinking that maybe all those feelings of uncertainty drift around me because I haven’t found any place or anyone that has made me feel at home again yet. And when I do finally feel this again, it’ll be a natural, uncompromising feeling of “settling” rather than an anxious, stressful one. Like most things–It’s just a matter of time.