There's no place

Quick details: Play went well; finals went well; spur-of-the-moment decision to come back with my family has me in Richland until Friday, when my dad will drive me back to Seattle and then to Sea-Tac, where I'll fly out to the Dominican Republic. We'll get back late Sunday the 28, then I start spring classes at 9:30 Monday morning. Ay, mi madre.

Besides all that, I've been thinking about where I'm going to live for the rest of my life.

Transience seems to be something I might have to get used to. If this Reuters thing works out - really, truly works out, and I confirm that I love it and want to do it for the rest of my life - where is my home going to be? I may be in Santiago for a year, then go to Buenos Aires, maybe Brazil, if I learned Portuguese, and at some point I want to venture over to the Middle East. With all this moving around, never staying put for too long in any one city, where do I call home?

For now, here, in Willowbrook, my eternally tranquil and well-kept neighborhood, I feel at home. But it's slowly changing. Last summer, I complained to my brother about him putting his running shoes up on the kitchen table (I mean, really. Who does that.) and he asked why I cared (in that charming way of his), and I said, Because I live here too! And he said, You don't live here. You just moved home for the summer.

Ouch ka-bibble.

Then, today, I came up to my room to find that my dad has taken over my desk as a safe haven for all things electronic. We've got the baby laptop sitting on top of my old laptop, with the camcorder and plenty of cables to keep them company. It's the only place they can go, and you're hardly ever here, was his explanation.

And while I still proudly proclaim my eastern Washington roots while I'm at school, I catch myself calling Seattle "my" side of the state when I talk to my parents. My apartment still isn't very homelike, but Seattle is. School is there, church is there, most of my friends are there.

But what happens when I leave to work abroad? Right now, my bedroom here still has everything the way I left it - posters on the walls, closet a disaster, stuffed animals in a bin by the window. I can't move everything with me if I'm leaving the country. I won't be able to take much at all this summer, and I suppose it'll be a similar pattern from now on. Do I buy new stuff every time I go to a new place? New pots and pans, new mattress cover, new dish towels and coat rack for the door?

Does my bedroom at home stay my home base? It would be sad to see my parents turn it into some depressing exercise room, but it would also be sad to be in my 30s and have my Princess Bride poster still above my bed. (That's a lie. The Princess Bride will never be sad.)

Home is often where your family is. But in all my imaginings of my life to come, I have not pictured anyone by my side. These are strictly independent adventures. No husband - and certainly no children - will be in tow. Too much hassle, and I could never demand such transience of someone else.

Based on current projections, I will be single and without a permanent residence well into my middle age.

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

Love always,

molly