Ten Years

Last month I celebrated being in the same place for 10 years.

Have I mentioned nomadic ancestors?

I moved out of my parents' house when I was eighteen to go to college. Since then I have bounced around the country, from one coast to the other. No one place really suited me until now. Some days I have John Denver crooning in my ear about "...Coming home to a place he'd never been before..." I finally understand that sentiment.

For a very long time, my limit at an address was about 3 years, often, a lot less. This little house is the most comfortable home I've had since my childhood. But it doesn't have anything to do with the house itself.

Asheville is a versatile, tolerant, funky place that serves all my various wants. I don't think I have managed to achieve that in my previous wanderings. When I started saving to buy a house, I had a plan of finding an anchor - a place I could store all my stuff while I traveled. It didn't occur to me to find a place where I was comfortable living.

I used to joke that I got all the gypsy genes from my Hungarian ancestors. I didn't know then about the nomadic nature of the original tribes, or how the Celts came through there on their way to Britain. So I might have a double dose of wanderer.

The years have flowed by with pleasant milestones. But the lack of trauma has made them less striking. So it always surprises me when I look at a calendar and realize another year is done.

Here's to another decade or two in my comfortable home.