While walking through my neighborhood with Wiggles a few days ago, I was thinking about my lack of roots. Between moving 23 times, switching careers multiple times and not keeping in touch with old friends and colleagues, I haven’t felt like where I lived was a permanent home in a long time.
Home for me was wherever Ellen and I lived. We made our place our home. On average we moved every 3 years and never stayed in one home for more than 4 years.
When I think of people I’ve known who stayed at the same job for decades, never left the neighborhood where they grew up or even bought their parents home, I am filled with wonder. What would it be like to know everyone, not have to start over and have lifelong friends and a history?
I had a taste of this up until the age of 7 when I lived in Tamaqua – where multiple generations of my family had lived. It was fantastic.
What I thought the other day was that I feel very rooted today. I’ve been here for two years. I know my neighbors. I’ve made a few friends. I’m pleased with my house, my neighborhood and my life.
I’m not longer looking for something better to run to.
I’m staying.