Where do I live now? I live nowhere and everywhere. In the past three months I have traveled through California’s Central Coast, San Diego Mountains, to Yuma, Arizona, back through the Sierra Nevada’s, and up through Nevada to the wild north of Idaho. I have lived in a nineteen foot travel trailer with my daughter, her husband, their six children, two dogs, and a cat, several anonymous motel rooms, and as of this moment a thirty foot motor home with Mike in South Lake Tahoe.
Moving around is not new to me. I have lived in too many places to name, moving because of love; domestic violence; divorce; school; or economic reasons. Six bedroom houses; cold dark cabins; weekly motel rooms; assorted campgrounds and rest areas; trailers, tents, and RVs. These are the places I have called home, sometimes alone, most often with some or all of my children and lately my grandchildren.
I long for a place to rest my weary self; tired of roaming, I long for a place to call home. I yearn for a room of my own, one strewn with books, writing tablets, and pens; a room in which beads (I love beads and fringe) sing in the breeze, candles flicker in the dusk and dawn, and Kohl and Gigi lounge languidly alongside me.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title. Virginia Woolf
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