Tues 05.22.12 - A week and a half ago, I was in Amsterdam for Mobilism and at dinner with friends old and new, when one asked, "How is your first week of homelessness going?"
It was one of those half in jest, half in his bewilderment question/statements. The person who asked this is approximately 35 and is on his second owned home.
I laughed off the question and stated that my AppRetreat was off to a great start and I was not homeless as all my stuff was in storage and I have a place to stay for the next two months.
For most of my adult life the idea of actually owning a home in the Los Angeles area has been repugnant to me, as it represents both a stagnation of dreams and a tying down of my life to servicing a huge mortgage*. For what? Really, for what?
At the same time, I have longed deeply for home. But Los Angeles is not the deep home that I have longed for.
By the time I was 22, I had lived in over 27 different residences. By the time I was 22, my dad had been married 4 times and my mom 3. With so many marriages and divorces there had been many moves, along with moves of choice. My mother always buys a home each time she moves, even if it is every 3-5 years. My brother has reacted to all of this by buying one home in 1997 in Huntington Beach and staying put.
If I had the money, I would love to buy an apartment or flat in London or Barcelona and then have a rental apartment at the beach in Southern California. But that is not in the cards right now, nor do I have the visa(s) needed to travel back and forth frequently.
My Grandma Grace traveled twice a year for over 35 years between a summer home in Oregon and a winter home in San Diego. My Grandpa Jim and his wife now split the year between Marina del Rey and Uraguay.
Even as giving notice, packing up my Seal Beach apartment, putting all my stuff in storage, and traveling to Europe for these two months has freed me up greatly to get a back log of personal projects done, as well as freed up my spirit, I have woken up nearly every morning with my first thought of, "I want to go home."
But I don't know where home is. I don't think I ever have known where home is, other than hoping it is at the next location.
I am ok with that right now and for the near future even though I long for home.
I am beginning to think that C.S. Lewis and Peter Kreeft were/are right and that home is not found here.
* For those of you who live in a cheap part of the US or world, please chortle now, but for those of use who live in the land of $525,000 starter homes with dry rot and bad neighborhoods, really it is not so attractive to own.