If you had the opportunity to live a nomadic life, traveling from place to place, would you do it? Do you need a home base? What makes a place “home” to you?
This is a topic of conversation that unfortunately comes up often in our house. Hubby is a trucker, and he loves to drive. He gets lonely and would love to have me along with him. The only problem is that I have never been a traveler. I am a homebody.
This is not a new argument around here. We used to have a camper. Hubby wanted to go out more often. I didn’t. I never cared for the bugs, sleeping on a bed that hurt your back, fixing hodge podge meals that never tasted quite as good as they did at home, showering in a sketchy-sort of bathroom, having to pack and unpack, and just not having the comforts of home around me. I liked the campfires and listening to the wildlife at night, but it wasn’t enough to make me want to go more often. Maybe if we had had more time and more money, we could have gone on some longer trips to better places that might have enticed me to like it more. Hubby camps for a living now.
My parents had a camper when I was a kid. We went every summer – usually several times – and usually to the Thousand Islands. It’s pretty there. We always had a good time. There were cousins to play with, Mom was making the meals so they tasted great, daily showering is not as much of a priority when you are 10 and younger, and when you are little your back is more forgiving. I never cared for the bugs or the sketchy bathrooms (pit toilets, anyone?). I did love hearing the freighters on the St. Lawrence River every night.
If I had the opportunity to live a nomadic life, I would decline. I like my own four walls around me, and I like to be comfortable. I like the routine and the sameness. I settle in for the long haul. Having to pack up and move constantly would be painful to me because there is no adventure in my soul.
Home to me is my own little abode. It’s not fancy, it’s not new, but it’s mine. Everything around me is mine, too. That is what keeps me sane – having my own little place to retreat to from the world.
“There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort.” – Jane Austen