For the first year of Kai’s life, we spent every weekend on the road, exploring the riches of Northern California. He eased into the routine of traveling, in spite of mostly wanting to be home. By the time he was four, he had slept almost as much time on a hotel bed as he had in his own.
To call my boys savvy travelers seems almost redundant. We roadschool our kids through travel, teaching them about the world by placing them in it. They seem to understand that the world is large and there is so much to see–one of our favorite games is Where do you want to go next?
However we always had a home to return to in San Francisco. They were always grounded by community in our little Bernal Heights neighborhood. Extracting them, and us, from San Francisco was like cutting off a limb, yet we survived our move to LA in the way that travelers generally survive their most challenging trips. Growing and learning and becoming stronger for the experience.
Los Angeles might not have been the best place to be for us all, but it gave some sense of clarity to our restlessness. It doesn’t matter if it is in San Francisco, Los Angeles, Santa Barbara, Hawaii, or Santa Cruz. We need to find home.
After years of tossing ideas into the air, Eddie and I realize, now, finally, the benefit of finding a home, and allowing our children to thrive in comfort.
This of course is a strange journey for a traveler. We wander. We look for experience and change and newness. I have never wanted to own a home, nor to settle down. But being displaced with two young children does not feel right for them. I have been in this situation, without a home, many times in my life. And I have used this as an excuse to be of the world, in the world, around the world. And while I am also using our displacement as an act of freedom to explore, I am also quite clear that what I am looking for is a place to settle.
I am ready to be home.