Today, I find myself sitting in a laundr-o-mat and thinking about the long-term. Here, in this little plaza on the seaside I’ve always called home, I reflect on the experiences I’ve had, and the ones that are yet to come.
Fortunate for the home base I’ve had, it’s strange to feel ready for a new start. A new place to launch from. Such is the nature of the roamer at heart. Where do you begin? Where does the roving individual begin to find a home base? Many rad folks I know (and don’t know) don’t have anything permanent at all. Some travel in their vans and buses, following the “home is where you park it” mindset that leads them from one unknown destination to another. Some wander with a tent, and some of us are couch surfers. I recently read about a family that lives in a different city every year to experience each place through “local” eyes. For us, I know we want a sturdy launch pad. A solid bed to come back to as we check off destinations on our travel list.
The desire for a home different from the one we have comes from a number of places. First, this is a whole new chapter in our lives. Newly married, trying new ventures, a clean slate altogether. We want a place that we elect for ourselves to call home. Second, your launch pad should offer all of the elements of adventure, tranquility, and comfort enough to feed at least some of the hunger you satisfy when traveling. For us, this means someplace on the coast, but with seasons, mountains, terrain, things to explore, people to meet, on and on. A place you can be both removed and immersed at one time.
Finding a rad launch pad should match the individual. Ask yourself, what do I need from a home? Maybe it doesn’t need to be anywhere at all. The preceding generations are healthily filled with nomadic souls, but people have always lived that way. I think we can agree that whatever “home” may mean to you, a basic need will always be a sense of connection. If it is a place, it is somewhere that really touches you. You carry it with you when you leave, but also feel a part of yourself there.
Sitting in a wiry chair, waiting for my comforter to dry, I prospect and dream about minimalizing my possessions, getting my husband and our dogs in the van, and traveling north along the coast to find a new home. That place may change across the continent or the world. Of course, we will always come back to New Smyrna. I’ve watched countless people fall hopelessly in love with the quaint coastal town, and rightfully so. Just as the feeling and nature of the place evolves, so do we. We grow and we shift like dunes on the shore, and it’s exciting to tend to the calling.
So, just like my favorite movie,
Away We Go!