For a bossy only child I was shy, I was cautious. Not in the timid, oh please do not talk to me type of shy, but in the exploration outside my bubble shy. As a child, I only remember a handful of times when I ventured to a new place, away from home by myself. These memories of heading out, by myself, were seldom to new faraway places. It seems I always wanted to keep home base in sight. Stray too far away and home might move and not be there when I returned.
A mother with a restless wandering spirit raised me, and our family moved every few years, sometimes across state lines, sometimes across the river. It was not until I was well into my late twenties, with a house of my own, that I had finally felt at home. The five-year anniversary of living in that home was the longest I had ever lived in one place.
This story is not uncommon by any means in fact millions of young people live with their small bundle of belongings in bags and shift from one restless place to another. Yet how my story played out for me, I have come to realize, has affected my ability to seek out new places, new people, or to seek change.
My mother's spirit did not match mine. Looking back my maternal grandmother is more my kindred spirit. By the time I knew her, she enjoyed being home quietly watching the birds out the window flitting from one branch to another, tending to her belongings or corresponding with friends and family via handwritten letter. I too find joy in these simple activities. Quietly at home, enjoying tasks that add to the calm of a settled life.
While my mother was restlessly changing her mind on where we should live, fluttering from one passion to the next, I was in my room, my bubble, organizing or cleaning. Never wandering too far from home or off the beaten path on my afternoon outside explorations.
Leaving my bubble by myself was a scary prospect, and as an only child whose parents were most times engaged in their own activities, my father at work and my mother absorbed in her art, I was most days by myself.
Even now after 30 years of adulthood, venturing out to a new place on my own takes courage. There are people that do not even bat an eye at putting on their shoes and stepping out onto the road. However, I must first summon the courage to venture forth unto new spaces.
There are glorious adventures big and small outside the bubble I have always seemed to build around me. I have to remind myself that bursting this bubble is okay. I am in charge of where my home is and I will not move it without telling myself or at least having a lengthy discussion about making a change. My home will be here when I get back from venturing outside. By myself. I have to trust myself that I will always remember my way home.
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