I have braved the road of uncertainty for some years now. I’ve been willing to practice detachment, not planning very far ahead where I’ll live or work. Some situations have changed on an hour’s notice and I’ve always been ready.
Now I face another crossroads, and once again the terror of letting go the possibility of making a wrong decision. My friends, safe in their homes, can’t advise me. They don’t know what it’s like to live on the road, at times underemployed in exchange for freedom, wondering if you’re inhuman to not want to “settle,” as they call it.
I have no family, tenure, or storage unit to back me up as do so many travelers I meet. I’m self-contained—that is, but for the angels I always sense around me.
Oh yes—I know; home is wherever I am, and look at the hundreds of new friends I’ve gained all over in living this gypsy lifestyle.
In my youth I studied to be a tour guide or an airline worker. I volunteered for the Travelers Aid Society to experience the magic of working in an airport.
This is how I am. In my personal space, I don’t like pictures on the wall or home decorating tasks. Less stuff, not more, please.
Yet, I feel so lonely for a normal household again, to be like everybody else and fit in. Meanwhile, my happiness is derived from a decent pen and paper. A table and comfortable chair if I can get it and if not, on the floor and in my lap is perfect.
That’s it. I can no longer bear to deal with the mundacities of home ownership or a “real” job.
Even knowing this about myself, I squeeze my soul and try to be like everybody else, and the pain is excruciating.
Living with uncertainty is my curse and my blessing; it is my only path.
“Take no thought for your life…” ~ Jesus