Searching for a new place to live and to call home for an extended period of time is tiring. But I’m excited … and apprehensive. This new place will require committment – something that I did not really have to deal with at any point in my life.
Growing up an Army brat, I never expected to live in any one place for more than four years. Even when my parents bought their current house in Tacoma (their committment), I never imagined myself staying in Washington for the rest of my life. I grew up with the skill of starting my life over again whenever I needed to. I grew up with no attachments, no roots.
When someone asks where I am from, my answer is the entire list of places I’ve lived. I don’t have a hometown. I don’t have just one place where I can look back and say, “Yep, that’s where I grew up.”
Moving has been both a blessing and a curse.
Truthfully, I never thought that I would stay in Los Angeles for as long as I have. This is the one place that has been the exception to the pattern of my life. Seven years later, and I’m still not tired of this place. Sure, I’m bored with it on occassion, but that can be cured by a long drive out of town. There are still streets here that I have not been down. Neighborhoods that I haven’t got lost in. Places left to see.
Seven years, and this move will commit me to more. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. What if, after law school, I find that my life is leading me to another far away place, another place to start over? Will I be afraid to take the risk because of this new committment? Or have I finally found the place where I can call ‘home’?