I’m closing on the first place of my own in two weeks. Most people would be ecstatic. I’m feeling a little panicked. Buying a place provides me with roots and suggests permanency. I’ve been an unintentional gypsy for so many years that when the north wind blows, I follow it. Renting has made that a bit easier and my recent Florida trip did little to discourage that pesky northern wind. Rather, it joined forces with the ocean and tried to lure me with promises of new towns and new adventures. I have this little fear that by buying a permanent spot, I will ignore the north wind when it blows yet again and I will lose out on the next adventure. It seems silly, but there you have it.
It’s really not a bad thing. The place is small, but cute. It’s perfect for me and my dog. I have a couch that folds out for visitors. I have a swimming pool and a dog park. The best part is that I’m really not permanently rooted down. I work in an industry that allows me to travel so I have cleverly satisfied the north wind that blows through my inner gypsy being.
For now, traveling calms that pesky mistral. I can book a flight and be back on a beach, or in a new town. But, it’s a clever north wind and may one day call me again, wanting me to embark on new adventures. I have roots and I have wings. And I’m okay with that.