A strange feeling has been creeping up on me, a feeling that I did not expect, NOT EVER. It was last week that I noticed, with surprise, that I have begun feeling at home, here in Boise.
How absolutely strange!
My heart and soul are gypsy.
There were days when I felt strange and out of place even when I grew up, and I did most of the growing up in the same Swiss village. After that, all I ever wanted was to travel, explore, admire new places, meet new people, eat strange foods, see if the grass is greener behind the next hill, forest, or ocean.
My happiest years in that regard were when I lived in an RV for five years, here in the United States.
There is nothing more elating to me than waking up one morning,
… feeling like moving on,
… turning the key in the ignition,
… hitting the road and having
… where I will spend the next night.
These days are over since twelve years and I have often regretted being stuck in just one place. We did move, though, mind you, from Southern Texas to NW Arkansas to Idaho, but that’s not enough for a gypsy soul.
Every spring, every summer, every fall, and every winter, and often in-between, I feel like leaving, moving on again. Often, it is only out of love for my son that I don’t continue driving when on the freeway; he is the only family I have and there is nothing better in my life than him.
And now, after eight years in this place, it’s creeping up on me, this unknown feeling of “home,” of somewhat belonging.
It’s not 100% but it is there, tiny, … wanting to grow.
I’m not sure the gypsy in me will approve….