Is there such a thing as a nomadic homebody? We’re housesitting again so we’re not at home, yet we’re home. Where is home? When Hubby and I say it’s time to go home, which home are we talking about?
In spite of thinking that I’d never housesit again, here we are in our daughter’s house while she studies for her PhD at Texas A&M. I wrote about housesitting two years ago (see blog post) and my feeling of being homeless when we were living in someone else’s house. This time, it’s not as bad.
Hubby and I are spending this winter further south than normal, hoping that it’s nicer here than it will be at home. Time will tell to know for sure, but that’s our hope. It might be close because the last two winters have been very mild in the Black Hills. We had some snow but not a lot. The weather was cold, but nothing like I remember from our years there before. It spoiled us.
Because we’ve spent so much time at our daughter’s house, it feels comfortable. The biggest stress is keeping it as neat and clean as she does. I feel lots of pressure to do that although the single level home seems much easier to clean than our multilevel one. I’m still a little nervous about breaking something though.
Just as before, we have friends in the area which makes it nicer to live here. There’s a church here where we know most everyone and that eases the transition. I still need to find some local writers to connect with. I know they’re here, but I haven’t contacted them yet.
So where is home? I guess it’s where you will sleep that night. I’m thankful I have a roof over my head, food in the refrigerator, a heater that keeps me warm, a place to write, books to read, and a hot tub to relax in at the end of the day. I’m content with that. Home is here until next summer when home will be…back home.
Having food and raiment, let us be therewith content. I Timothy 6:8