Wandering Feet

This summer seems endless.

In a Groundhog Day movie kind of way.

Each day is melding into the next. Each day seems to be a repeat of the one before. I’m losing track of what happened, when.

I’m feeling very unsettled and anxious. Plenty of reasons why. There always is.

This summer I am also feeling a bad case of “Wandering Feet”.

It’s time to move. I want to move. Perhaps I even need to move.

Move what you ask? Home.

We are a military family. Military families move. But my desire to move is much more than military.

In my adult life (since age 18) I have moved 18 times.

’89 brown duplex overlooking the town

’90 tiny blue/white house

’91 tiny white house by the railroad tracks

’91 lonely house on the beach

’92 tiny white house

’93 rented a room out on the old highway

’93 second floor apartment

’94 blue house by the railroad tracks

’96 house down the dirt road

’98 rented room in town

’99 little yellow house

’00 tiny A-frame

’01 third floor apartment

’01 house in scary part of town

’02 brick one story

’03 the house I loved the best

’05 duplex we renovated

’07 here

But “here” is not home. Yes, I have been in this one house for 5 years – the longest ever. But it is not home. It is military housing.

Don’t misunderstand, by military housing standards, this is a beautiful house. But it is not mine.

I want a home. I’m ready for a home. I want to plant my wandering feet.

I’m anxious. I’m on edge.

I want to move again.

Home.

Wherever that may be.