Another Trip Around the Sun...
This is the first time in quite a few years that I have not written a birthday post on my birthday. Today is the day after, and I am sitting in my studio apartment in Kihei, Maui. It is a bright and sunny day, and I have the whole day ahead of me.
I feel adrift. My life has been a strange series of wanderings since my children grew up and moved out. In the past ten years, I have opened and run my own business. I have learned Portuguese and German, in addition to my French. I have served in the Peace Corps. I have lived in Florida, South Carolina, the Virgin Islands, Mozambique, and now Hawaii. I have had some life-altering relationships that have changed my soul and will remain with me forever. I have lived in more places in the past five years than I have in the previous twenty.
With that said, I have always moved all over. I was born in South Carolina and would consider that home, but I have many other homes, too. I suppose that is the problem. I am both at home everywhere and at home nowhere. As I check off one beautiful destination after the other, all I can do is look for the next one. It's funny, but I felt more at home in Mozambique, surrounded by foreign languages than I do here in Maui.
Perhaps the reason for that is I expect to know these people and the rules because we are all American, yet I don't. There is a heavy West Coast influence here, and though I once lived in California and Utah, I do not feel settled here. Dating seems futile because I have deep connections with long-term friends, and I cannot see staying here long enough to play house with a new partner. I long to make friends, but with the pandemic and working from home, meeting people is much more challenging. I have considered joining clubs, but many of the things they enjoy here are not things that I feel a resonance with.
So, I work. I write. I publish. I talk to my family and friends all over the world, and I long for the next opportunity to escape overseas. At my age, I know that I should not waste my life simply marking time, yet I also recognize that I could live another 40 or more years, and I am merely at the halfway mark of my life.
Will I find my home? Will I take another spouse? How long will I stay here?
At times, I play, "What if?" with my friend. What if I had not married at 18? What if I had not left that job or moved or stayed with that partner... Yet, he and I both agree that we are where we are, and each choice we make has led us to where we are at this moment. There is no permanence at all. I know that I will leave here and it will be as sudden and unexpected as every other adventure that comes my way. The painful part is not the sudden change, but the waiting.
The beautiful day beckons, and it is time for me to join it. Who knows what will happen?