The Nomad

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I now begin a series of posts on the topic of my nomadic life.

I am not sure how long the series will last, nor how many posts it will consist of, but I find that appropriate for the theme at hand.

When I happen to make mention of my plan to be without a residence of my own for a period of several months, I get two responses: the first is "If you need a place to stay, don't sleep in your car, we can find you something better than that;" the second is "That sounds like so much fun! You are so lucky to be young and single and able to do that."

I have to laugh when I hear this last comment. I don't think I would have chosen to be without even a 9x10 room if circumstances hadn't grown to be what they are. But it is an adventure that more than one person has idly wished for.

The first comment makes me think of life in the Old West, when young single teachers would routinely move from house to house throughout the year as each student's family provided lodging. There is something both attractive and horrific in contemplating such a life.

But I imagine that carrying a carpet bag with two dresses, a couple books, and underthings is a lot easier when everyone else in town has a closet that consists of a nail in the wall. These days no one expects to see the same item of clothing every day of the week.

But fortunately for me, I'm not restricted to carrying only a carpet bag. I don't even have to make sure that my belongings can hang off the back of a camel like other nomads have had to observe. Yes, I must simplify, sort, and strategize, but I find myself the envy of people who own land. I must be living a grand adventure, to be sure.

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