Random Thoughts: It's Not About the Where, but the Who

I used to be a traveler. San Antonio, Chicago, North Carolina, Italy, Austria, Germany – you name it. Just tell me the dates & I’d have my bags packed.

Abruptly, that all changed. Maybe it was events on 9/11. Maybe it was my social anxiety. Maybe it was my burgeoning fear of trust. No matter the cause, getting on a plane or train soon became an intense test of my sanity and patience. Oddly enough, my passion for relocating has never ceased … until recently.

Even before moving back to Connecticut in January 2009, my husband (fiance at the time) & I were looking into the possibility of buying our first house. As an apartment renter for almost a decade, the idea of owning a space that was truly my own – to decorate & remodel at my whim – was exhilarating. Two main problems prohibited us from moving forward:

1) Not enough money (that’s a big enough issue, no?)

2) I didn’t want to buy a house in Connecticut

We moved back to Connecticut so I could be close to my mum, who is one of my few family members that still lives. Being so close to her for nearly 9 months has been pure joy – we cook, garden, visit farmers’ markets, go on walks … all the fun stuff. It’s been like having your best friend just a few minutes away. But I don’t want to settle here.

The only reason I am in Connecticut is because my mother is here. It’s a great state – don’t get me wrong -  but it still doesn’t feel right for me. I’ve spent over 1/4th of my life moving from city to city, state to state, but I’ve never found a place that feels like home … though a few have come close: Chicago, North Carolina, and Vienna, Austria. I’ve never been one to want a lot of “stuff”, so the idea of having a house in a state that required you to have a car (more stuff!) didn’t jive with me.

Then, as the only thing expected in life, another change happened. I read “Grounded Traveler” – a small, half-page piece by writer Amelia Glynn in the August 2009 issue of Yoga Journal Magazine. The last paragraph is what struck me the most:

Change had changed me. For the first time, I realized real estate wasn’t the answer. Without a physical place or the stuff to fill it, each day I returned to me. I was the constant. I was the comfort. I was home.

Do I like houses? Yes. Do I need a house? No. Do I like interior design? Yes. Do I need to spend money designing my own space? No. Will I ever find a place where I feel I belong? Maybe. Do I need to? No.

What does this all mean? It means another big change is coming up for me. My husband is joining the Marines next year and, after months of hemming and hawing, crying and arguing, I’ve decided to go with him. I will soon be a military wife, living on-base. This is something that he wants to do & while I don’t support all of the military’s actions, he’s given it a lot of thought and decided it is what is best for him and us. I wouldn’t be able to give our relationship the full commitment it deserves if I’m not there with him while he takes on this immense experience.

My husband will be joining the Marines before I can follow him, as I am in the middle of completing a 2-year college degree. Once I’m finished in 2011 (and he’s completed all his training), I and our 2 cats will be joining him on-base. I’m scared but also intrigued. Fear is not going to rule my life. I will still continue my professional writing and photography, and this blog will eventually feature some of the unique adventures I’ll be blessed to have.

This is big. This is huge. This is mega-uber-bunka-bustin’-humongous. It will be a perfect chance for me to expand my knowledge and indulge my curiosities, all while still enjoying the comforts of “home.” I will miss my mum immensely, though I know she will jump at every chance she has to visit. Though the thought brings tears to my eyes, I know she will one day be gone (just like dad, R.I.P.) & I can’t wait until then to start forging my own path.

The moral of this story: People matter more than places or possessions (cars & houses to cell phones & TVs), but there’s always a happy medium.