When I was young, I loved to travel. I thrived on adventure and change. In my early 20s, I moved to a new place every year (or more frequently sometimes than that). I used to joke that I never cleaned the stove in an apartment; that when the stove got too dirty I moved to another city. That was about the size of it. Upstate NY, to London, to Massachusetts, to Michigan, to Vermont, to Santa Maria in California, to the East Bay (SF area), to Denver, back to the East Bay. I traveled back and forth to Europe frequently. Once I dropped everything and went on a road trip to Seattle because I had never been there and I had a friend I could stay with. Ron and I traveled in Europe for several weeks back in the early 80s. So how did I become the reclusive personality I am today?
I confess that I no longer enjoy traveling. It broke my heart to move off my beloved land on McNab Ranch. I am doing better these days now that I am used to my new home. I putter in my yard and have become attached to my little half acre. Why leave home when home is so lovely? I am most happy hiding in my study, plunking away on my computer. Making up imaginary worlds.
After 10 days on the road, first attending a wedding in the Berkshires, and then visiting friends and family in Chicago and St. Louis, I am so ready to be back in my hideaway. Cup of decaf. Cat in my lap. Cool breeze bringing the scent of sage and mint from my front garden. Tap, tap, tapping the keys. I’m winging home today. Take me there.