At Home with Wanderlust


I could’ve used like 5 more days to decompress from the Elliott Brood/Shelby Earl West Coast tour, but I’m back and ready to roll. 

My piano(s!) were awaiting my fingers' return. My vocal chords were ready to do something other than yell above the music. My eardrums were happy to hear the sound of Tacoma seagulls and the Jr. High drum corp practice walking down our street. My arms were ready to hug my housemates' necks. 

Being back feels good...

Don’t freak out now, *coughcoughMomcough* but while speeding down I-5 in California, I was “hittin’ the goog” pretty hard researching/reading RV lifestyle blogs.

I don’t know how I’d fair living in an RV, but it’s tempting. Verrrry tempting.

For now, that temptation merely speaks to how badly I've needed to travel.

My friend Melanie *waving!* told me the other day that I am deep down a traveler. This kinda shocked me, but after thinking about it, she’s right.

I’ve always known the concept of “home” is relative - it’s where you feel most comfortable in your skin. 


Feeling displaced, despite being ‘at home’ geographically is a common sensation for me. I look back on my entire life and see that every 4-5 years there has been some big change, some big move, some big travel adventure. 

Perhaps it’s just spring. Perhaps I have an expiration date for staying still.

Or perhaps the wanderlust is just a testament to how ‘at home’ I feel in my skin.

But still... If we are able to find home wherever our heart is... then

Where is my heart?

Good question.