It’s March and I have too much to talk about. In short, we purchased a house, and now we’re fixing it before we move in.
I’ve never actually lived in a house before. Something about nailing my feet down to one patch of land seems to negate my childhood. I grew up thinking that “home” had more to do with people than with a place, and that my home was therefore scattered between Thailand, New York, and Hawaii.
I’ve picked my home now, and it’s here. I hope that home becomes a magnet, drawing friends I’ve made from all the parts of the world to come and hang out with us. I can’t say that Florida feels any more “home” than any other place in the world (I have too many friends and family in far-off places for that), but here I am.
What do you do when you know you’re going to be in a place for a long time? Do you get involved in the PTA, in Girlscouts, in community activism? Do you start reading the tiny local rags and seeing the names of people that you know? Do you give money to every child that comes to your door with a box from school, and start attending the nearest local place of worship? Do you plant a garden? (At least I can answer that last one.)
I don’t know. I’ve never owned a piece of the earth before, but it seems like it might change me, hopefully for the better.