What is Home?
I’ve been traveling now for coming up on three years, nomading it from Minnesota to Arizona to Florida and back “home”. For the last 20 years or so I was living in Wisconsin, yet I’ve always said I’m from Minnesota. You probably have to live here to understand that concept. Anyway, this week I asked my cousin if I could park in the driveway at his cabin for a night. That turned into 5 days, and last night he said stay another week if I wanted to. I said yes.
“May we all be lucky enough to find someplace that feels like home.” a friend sent back to me as I was attempting to explain this to her. When I travel I prefer to stay in my Roadtrek even when parked in a friend’s driveway. It’s interesting to note that those closest to me struggle with this, while casual acquaintances are fine. Closer people want me in their house, and I reluctantly agree while never feeling comfortable about it. I like my own bed.
Then I walked in here, The Cabin is the way I need to write it, because that’s the way the family refers to it. My Uncle Norm died in 1975 and his wife, my Auntie Margie, my mother’s sister, built the cabin on a lake just outside where they grew up. Where her mother lived until she was 99. Where the memories are. I have been around this place since it was built, when I was 15. I even rented it a couple of times from my aunt, and my boyfriend and I came for a week to chill.
I walked in here and knew immediately I was going to stay inside. I picked a bedroom, dropped my stuff, and sat on the deck and watched the lake and realized this place, like no other I’ve been in for many years, feels like home. I know where everything is stored – needed a power strip and yep, there’s one in the hall closet just as it should be. I know which drawer holds the silverware, where the towels are, which windows to open to get the best breeze off the lake.
One of the most challenging things about being on the road is all the decisions that need to made every day. Watching the power situation, the water, the trash, the gas, the propane, the tires, what to eat, where to eat, where to park, etc. etc. Even when parked for three weeks at a friend’s cabin I’d never been to before there were things to figure out that I can skip figuring out here because I already know. Or it’s already taken care of. Comfort, memories, and a view of the lake that is unmatched because it’s familiar.