Thoughts on Moving... Again

Admittedly, I shed a few tears in bed each night at the prospect of winding up my two months of leisure and leaving this warm, sunny land, where bananas are for sale on every street corner, haircuts cost $3, and I have a brother I can rendezvous with for lunch every day.

Though the testimony of my tracks may indicate otherwise, I don't like to move around. I like to open new doors ahead, but I hate to close the ones behind. Leaving Taiwan is sad for me: I don't want to go, but at the same time, I'm eager to see Honeychild and eat nachos at Block 15. Going home this fall, as exciting and necessary as it is, requires me to leave Oregon, which is also sad, because there are people and places and things I will miss. Going home is both heart-breaking and heart-mending. I tell myself sometimes I've got to draw in my feelers and concentrate on sinking my roots instead. I like to believe I have a sedentary nature. I see myself as a farmer rather than a wanderer. I like the idea of investing in one place, and of fostering relationships that are generations old.
I live in a privileged time and a privileged place. I can travel back and forth across countries and even continents many times in a single lifetime. I can go to faraway places without bidding a permanent goodbye to my homeland. I can stay in touch with people in other places while I travel. I can live in several places at once. I can shift my life three thousand miles and take more than a bundle of belongings. Generations past faced infinitely more challenges. Generations ahead may, as well. Love it while it lasts? Or don't spoil myself?

The answer to the riddle is go home. Go home for a while to recup and regroup. And then, when the wind blows, see if my roots are strong enough to hold me firm or if it blows me away again...