During every trip there would always came a moment when I would feel an almost overwhelming compulsion to get home. Kevin would mention it too (perhaps not quite as dramatically), but still, he’d say, “Yeh…we’ve been gone long enough now. Let’s get home.”

We often talked about how six to eight weeks usually felt like the right amount of time away. After that it was time to get home, fall back into a bit of a routine, and let it all settle in. Sometimes, the feeling was an almost desperate need to regroup. To put things away. To quit living out of a suitcase. To literally feel grounded on my own patch of the planet.

But something shifted when we downsized ourselves into our tiny trailer life.

I’m sitting here in the Halifax airport after two weeks of traveling around Cape Breton and other parts of Nova Scotia.  Kevin has spent the time in BC with the trailer and I won’t be joining him until July 9th. Instead, I will arrive in Vancouver and immediately begin a different trip…my 28th annual adventure with my girlfriends.

And yet, in spite of being continually on the move since April 30th, I feel no need to go ‘home’. Is it simply because that possibility has ceased to be an option?

I’m not sure.

I know that this new flexible life allows me the time to reconnect to friends, to be at more family events, and to be more available for whatever else might present itself.

I am looking forward to this next adventure with my wonderful women friends. And it’ll be great to reunite with  Kevin and our nomadic trailer life, but even then, it’s not like we’ll be locked in to one place. The view from our ‘home’ will be different every day.

Maybe there will come a point in all our travels when it will suddenly be enough, when I’ll reach that moment when I’ll feel the desperate need to plant myself on a real piece of dirt.

But right now, I am feeling like wherever I land is just fine. It all feels kind of easy. I’m feeling settled in my nomadic place in this world.

I like this feeling. I like it a lot.