where is home exactly?

As I'm preparing for our road trip south I'm surprised by how much I'd rather just stay home.  But where is home exactly?  


We're moving down the road a month after we return from our road trip - still on  our little island but to a house on the ocean, something I've craved for a long time.  In my head I'm already drinking my morning coffee on the deck, wrapped up in my puffy jacket against the fall chill.  Already laying in bed watching a winter storm.  


It's making me think about how hard it's been for me to stay in this house for six years.  Six years.  That's by far the longest I've lived in one spot since leaving my parents' house over twenty years ago.  Just a few months ago I was planning to move off the island into town.  A few years ago I was desperately trying to move to Vancouver.  And before that, Victoria.  I've never felt grounded in this house.  Maybe I won't in the next one.  


Perhaps that's the plight of being a renter.  A temporary being.  And yet I can't bring myself to commit to buying a house.  The thought of being so purposefully permanent in one spot scares the hell out of me.  Makes me want to throw myself down a steep chute on my skis or bike, ride a motorcycle too fast, throw my arms into the air and yell at the top of my lungs.  Stretch.  Take a really, really deep breath.


But for now at least I'm content to stay here on this little island albeit in a new location.  I think a lot of that has to do with AS entering my life.  He appreciates, no, loves small island life.  It makes me look around with new eyes and appreciate what I have here: a gorgeous location and a community where I belong.  That has to count for something doesn't it?