We’re officially homeless—I mean, nomads!
I know we unplugged the internet modem, locked up the house, and dropped off the key with the property manager, but it still hasn’t hit me that we don’t live in the home in which we’ve been for four years.
Growing up in a military family, I’m no stranger to moving. I’ve moved plenty of times before. But this time is different.
It’s not like you just need to get used to the fact that there’s a new place to call home. It’s that there is no “home” to go back to!
I think it will be some weeks before it fully sinks in and I realize this isn’t just a trip from which we’ll soon return.
We don’t know where we’ll live after the sabbatical year. I feel an odd comfort not knowing. In the same sense, I feel an odd comfort not having a home. It represents pure possibility and freedom.
We’re free as a bird. Everything we need is in the pack on our backs. It feels… light—like we can go anywhere, because we can.