I don’t have a nest. A permanent home. A place to keep flying back to.
Sometimes knowing that I don’t have a nest feels freeing – nothing to tie me down somewhere. I can fly easily around the world. A suitcase full of clothes, and I am off.
Other times, it’s upsetting knowing that I don’t have a place to call home, a constant place to keep my cherished things, like the holiday cards my mom sends me or an electric blanket that my father gave me to survive a New York City winter. I am always having to plan what I will do with these things when I move once again.
On the positive side, I have had lots of “nests.” I had a nest in Atlanta with a porch, where I would often sit outside and eat breakfast or carve pumpkins with my friends. I had a nest in San Francisco with large bay windows that overlooked a beautiful magnolia tree. I had a nest in Nairobi, with an international couple from Australia and Honduras. I had a nest in Bogota that I shared with Santiago. I have had two nests in New York, small, with rats, roaches…I’ll stop there. I have had a new nest every year since I graduated from college (almost 6 years now…).
What I have realized about all of these nests is that its the people who make them feel like home, not the things in them. My nest in Atlanta would not have felt like home without my friends from the bank who also lived in the apartment complex. My nest in San Francisco would have not felt like home without my roommates and friends who would stop by after work for a glass (or 3…) of wine.
Life is always about the people in the nest and not the things. The memories that were made in each nest and not the furniture, clothes or decorations there.
My nest feels empty now without my beloved bird, Santiago, who has migrated to London since September of last year. I will be preparing the nest for his anticipated return for graduation in May.
And I will be flying away from my NYC nest in May…
Stay tuned over the next few weeks to find out where that may be!