At the Crossroads

There are many pivotal moments in life.  A fork in the road that must be forged, getting married, having children, not having children, changing careers, going for a degree, so many ways we can split the hair of fortune and steer life in a different direction.  The conception of this journey has become (as it was intended to) just such a fork.  Peeling away all the layers of routine, of comfort and familiarity to discover what is left.  And what does that person left want in life?

One of the purposes of this trip was to seek out if we want/could live somewhere different than Sonoma County or the Bay Area in general.  I am the 3^rd generation to be born in Oakland and Waylands family is 6 generations deep in the Carmel area.  We have roots that dive deep.  But, with the cost of living, the absurdity of housing prices and the palm to the forehead rental rates, we feel forced to look around and see if there is another place. 
I know that this is a popular and necessary conversation right now among lots of us who live in the Bay.  Let’s be honest.  It’s fucking crazy.  I have mixed feelings about leaving.  I have watched friends go elsewhere, and they seem really happy.  They keep coming back to the Bay to visit, but they say they love where they live and are so happy to not have to generate the income required here.  I understand that.  That makes sense; I get excited to do the same.  Yeah, lets move to Montana!  I can do it!  I hate snow, and love the ocean, but, sure, yeah, I can do this. 

Seeking out a new landscape to build a life is daunting, and forces me to recognize what is truly important to me.  Access to clean water, wide-open natural places, good food grown free of chemicals, and the trickiest one…community.
We’ve been through Northern California, all the way up to the tip-top where we explored Oregon, and then up into the San Juan Islands of Washington.  I gotta say, there is something that happens to a person when they are born and raised in a particular region.  There is the sharing of language patterns and vocabulary, general companionability of values as well as similarity in politics, and of course, FOOD.   

As we travel I recognize all the ways in which I am conditioned to live in a certain climate of people.  I am stretching myself, I love traveling and deeply appreciate the lens being shifted and broadened in my own psyche.  I suppose that the current political climate has me looking with a magnified eye at the disparity of what I hold precious and what other populations seem to hold in high regard.

The more we travel and sample our potential new homes, the clearer we become that we don’t want to leave the Bay Area.  In fact, we become clear that we just want to go home.  Both my husband and I come from divorced parents who moved us around a lot.  Like, a whole lot.  I’m accustomed to a certain gypsy life style, I get itchy after a year and want to hack off the new roots and find a new spot. 

This journey has uncovered a deep yearning to settle down.  To let roots seek the soft earth and make a home.  Like a round solid stone this truth rests on my heart.  I am ready to retire the gypsy wagon and find our home.  Thankfully, as fate would have it, so is my husband.  We are ready to make our home.

Now if we can just stop getting enchanted by the different songs we here in the voices of our friends who dearly love where they live.   If they love it so, couldn’t we?  Sigh.