In 2004 Zach Braff took the words right out of my heart.
“You know that point in your life where you realize the house you grew up in, isn’t really your home anymore? All the sudden, even though you have someplace to put your shit, that idea of home is gone. ” –Zach Braff as Andrew Largeman in Garden State
Those words struck a chord with me, a Generation X child of divorce who helped sell my childhood home, while my Mom was in Germany. Home as a place has alluded me for half my life. Likely the reason, I’m able to thrive in this modern nomadic lifestyle of location independence.
Do Nomads Ever Feel At Home
That’s not to say, I don’t ever feel at home. I do.
On reaching Iowa on our recent Cross Country Road Trip, Bello and I stayed two nights with my Aunt Sandy and Uncle Don. A wooden cat toilet paper holder, a colander I used as a kid, a wood framed full-length oval mirror in the bedroom. All things that made me feel at home, comfortable.
I get it, I get why it’s things that often make a person feel at home. So I understand all the questions we get living this strange lifestyle of ours, with no fixed home.
Feeling at home is just that, a feeling. What triggers that feeling of comfort, happiness, sense of place is more fluid for me. Nature, people, and habits put me at ease.
On our Cross Country Road Trip seeing the landscape in Iowa, the rolling, open, soft land, the storms rolling in, I felt at home. I missed those storms.
It’s people too. Not many mind you. I’m a nomadic introvert! Yet, meeting up with close friends Ayaz and Val made me feel at home in Miami, Florida and Malaga, Spain.
It’s also habits. Working every day, cooking dinner every night and yes, wine. Bello and I end each day with conversation and wine no matter where we are. Leuca, Italy to Cartagena, Colombia this is our habit.
Plus now, we get real time with our families. Something we could not do while living in New York City and working conventional jobs. Nothing makes you feel at home more than laughter with family.
The only true home I have and the only one I need is my Husband’s arms. In his arms with my head resting on his chest, I am home, no matter where in the world we are.
So yes, nomads can definitely feel at home. So long as you’re talking about the feeling, not the place you put your shit.
Here is the movie clip in reference for all my fellow nomadic Gen Xers.
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