Tuesday, April 3, 2018


Everything has felt loud lately. I was wondering if I had some sort of reverse hearing damage, like my hearing is getting better as I age. Sounds seem to to shoot straight from their source into my ear, rattling all of those tiny bones in my head. Sadly the answer does not lie in super power hearing, which let’s not kid ourselves —- would be a nightmare, but rather the reverberations of sounds within in an increasingly empty home. Moving is an all too familiar state of being for me. It feels like putting on old clothes, you don’t really like or want them, but they still fit perfectly. I know how to move. I know the physical and emotional steps of moving like I know my own breath.

My mother loves to put a good spin on things; it is really one of her great gifts. She always has a positive approach to anything that is decidedly unpleasant. She will say that something difficult is actually character building or she will note the good that often follows closely on the heels of heartache. With moving, and she knows moving better than any other person I know, she has always said she likes to imagine herself as a gypsy. For a long time I bought into that gypsy lifestyle. The adventure and the unknown of gypsy life is quite romantic! My father is the exact opposite. He has deep roots (a word that he pronounces differently than anyone else) and no matter where he travels his roots lead him home to Montana where they are firmly anchored in the wheat bearing soil of the Northern Plains. 

I am right in the middle of that conversation. I adore the romance and adventure of gypsy living, but I inexplicably long for deep roots. I think what my heart wants most of all is a home. A home that can be home to generations. A home for kids to come back to when they need comfort. A home for grandchildren to explore and taste fresh fruits and veggies of the garden. A home where I intimately know the seasons and have lasting friendships which are counted in decades. A home that I can haunt from the other side...just kidding, but like only 46%.

The other half of me aches to travel and see the world. I want to learn more than 1 3/4 languages and I want to spend months of summer in France or China or Brazil or wherever. I want to bring back gifts of rugs and scarves and art and jewelry to my friends and family. I have a deep and abiding wanderlust.

And so that is what I am aiming for in this next move. I want a home-base. I want a place where all roads start and end. No matter where we go in life, and I hope it is a great many places, that we always come back to home...of course this is just my daydream, but it is mine and I hold it close to my heart. 

1 comment:

elizabeth said...

you and me, both, maria. kindred spirits we are.
i am so hopeful that we both get our home-base. that i am in mine and that you will soon be in yours.

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