Truly a Nomad

I look around my house now that I’ve emptied out all the furniture (once again) and realize I truly am a nomad. I’ve lived in this house for 6 months and am already packing up and leaving. Interestingly enough, I’ve got gypsy blood. I’m told I’m part Bohemian. I had to look it up. Basically there was a Bohemia until some one invaded it and all the poor displaced Bohemians became wandering gypsies without a home. So maybe it’s just part of who I am, I’d like to think so anyway.

Looking back on my life, I have had 11 permanent addresses, spent a tiny portion of my childhood living in a tent (for real), had 5 or 6 secondary houses (my dad’s house—I was a split home kid), temporarily lived in 3 government barracks and the supply cache of one engine bay. I’ve laid claim to several friends’ and family members’ houses for extended and sporadic periods of time. I’ve stayed in more hotels than I can count in 4 different countries. Home and comfort has become completely relative. During fire season I live out of what’s called a Red Bag (probably because it’s red), also called a war bag. It’s got everything I could possibly need for 2 weeks without having to do laundry. It isn’t much. Sleeping in a sleeping bag and tent becomes a luxury, and sleeping in the dirt out on the fire line becomes better than no sleep at all.

During the past couple of months I’ve gone from suitcase to suitcase with barely enough time to wash my underwear in between (it can always be done in the sink at a hotel). I just finished loading most of my belongings into storage, still have to pack my bags for Arizona tonight, will get home on Monday and finish all my packing for Redding, then pack for a weekend in San Diego, then come back home to load everything into my jeep for Redding… and head up to my new temporary home in yet another government dormitory.

What’s even more surprising is that there aren’t a whole lot of people who live this way. I certainly know people who are always out and about (or who are technically homeless and jobless and have no idea what country they’re going to be in over the next couple years) but I also know a whole lot of people who stay put. Sometimes I wonder what that’s like. I’m going to miss my mattress the most. I’ve only had it 4 months and I’ve only slept in it maybe a quarter of that time. It’s a pillow top. You wouldn’t believe how comfortable it is.

Tonight I’m sleeping in my sleeping bag in my room with a blanket laid down for padding. Tomorrow night I’ll be sleeping in Arizona, then here on the floor again, then San Diego, then Redding, then who knows where.