You and me against the world

So, it probably wouldn't be a shocker to you if I said that I'd like to be settled. I've spent my entire adult life moving from place to place - working on my career and my education. I've lived in temporary situations as a result of being in school, as a result of being poor. I have a houseplant that isn't particularly old, that I've moved to five different residences. I have family furniture that I cart from state to state, waiting for that day when it will be a permanent installation in a home that I've made. This collection includes the dark walnut double bed that my aunt, then my parents, and then as a child I slept in, my grandmother's rocking chair that she bought in the late seventies that I remember her using before she died when I was four, and my grandparents' side tables that they had from before I was born to when my grandfather finally moved out of their house and into assisted living. It's not just stuff. I could get stuff anywhere. It's about wanting to build a life with meaning, with history, where family is important and remembered. In my mind building a family with roots all around them is meaningful.

So here I am at 31, still living in a rented house, still with no roots but the ones I carry around. It's me, living a bit like a nomad still. I'm done with nomad, nomad had a purpose, now it just feels like carryover. I'm at a bit of a loss in terms of the ways I expected to feel grounded at this point in my life. A family? Not my own. A solid group of friends? I'm working on it here and it will come, but it's still a process. I have my people, and rarely a day goes by that I don't feel grateful and blessed because of them (read: you), but my people are generally far away.

But this morning, while working at my desk, with the magically positive effects of a mocha coursing through my veins, I recognized that I do have one place in this new city. I have a ground.


It will be me and him, him and me, through years of life's new experiences. He'll move into the next place and the one after that, until a piece of the city is finally ours, and he will lay in the sun watching me paint walls and clean baseboards. He'll date men with me until I find the right one, and then he'll lay in the bed with two of us. He'll stand guard, barking at whoever comes too close to his backyard, while I plant flowers and tomatoes and herbs. And then he'll hopefully have some smaller humans to protect as well.

Change is exciting and scary. So is the future. But here's a piece I know. Here's a part of the picture I can see. This little bossy cuddle-bug will be there right along with me, because I'm his person. We've settled that part.