A Gypsy Life
I lived for 21 years in one place. The place I call home. Where each brick in the wall holds a memory, every nook a familiar smell, every corner a welcome sight. Having had enough comfort, and starting to feel restless and brave, I started to crave an adventure. So one fine day I packed a mini home; clothes, books, utensils et al; into 2 big suitcases, 1 stroller and a knapsack. I came to America. I packed a digital diary, a portable CD player, bunch of photographs, lots of food.. everything I thought I could possibly need.
In two years in grad school I moved 5 times. Each time lugging along a little extra baggage. A box or two, a few more memories, a couple more shoes. A lot of notes. The useful ones mostly learnt outside of class. I met so many people. So many different people. I stayed in good places and strange places. I had awesome house-mates and bad roommates. Great friends and crazy neighbours. And on the best of those days, it would rain.
Then I came to San Diego. With 2 big suitcases, 3 big boxes, 1 stroller, 1 knapsack and a bunch of other things lying scattered in my car to 'America's finest city. ' I lived in the same house for 3.5 years, unsure of my next move. I didn't know if I wanted to stay or leave. It was great to feel secure, but sometimes unsettling. It wasn't home, but it in a strange way it was.Suddenly, just like that, when i was craving another adventure, life happened.
Tomorrow I am moving. Again. My third move in a year and a half. This time, there are 3 big suitcases, 2 strollers, a backpack, 2 knapsacks, at least a dozen boxes, a ton of furniture, a laptop and a desktop and god knows what else. I stopped checking a while ago. I know that this is just the beginning. The next few years, as far as I see, its the gypsy life again. It will be good. I will see places, meet new people, learn new lessons.
But sometimes, all I want is my sunny sunshine home, with a green backyard that grows tomatoes and lemons, my garden with red and yellow roses and the white picket fence.
Someday.
In two years in grad school I moved 5 times. Each time lugging along a little extra baggage. A box or two, a few more memories, a couple more shoes. A lot of notes. The useful ones mostly learnt outside of class. I met so many people. So many different people. I stayed in good places and strange places. I had awesome house-mates and bad roommates. Great friends and crazy neighbours. And on the best of those days, it would rain.
Then I came to San Diego. With 2 big suitcases, 3 big boxes, 1 stroller, 1 knapsack and a bunch of other things lying scattered in my car to 'America's finest city. ' I lived in the same house for 3.5 years, unsure of my next move. I didn't know if I wanted to stay or leave. It was great to feel secure, but sometimes unsettling. It wasn't home, but it in a strange way it was.Suddenly, just like that, when i was craving another adventure, life happened.
Tomorrow I am moving. Again. My third move in a year and a half. This time, there are 3 big suitcases, 2 strollers, a backpack, 2 knapsacks, at least a dozen boxes, a ton of furniture, a laptop and a desktop and god knows what else. I stopped checking a while ago. I know that this is just the beginning. The next few years, as far as I see, its the gypsy life again. It will be good. I will see places, meet new people, learn new lessons.
But sometimes, all I want is my sunny sunshine home, with a green backyard that grows tomatoes and lemons, my garden with red and yellow roses and the white picket fence.
Someday.
posted by RagzZmatazZ at
5:03 PM
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