No, not here
My father retired shortly before I turned sixteen. My parents wanted to move back to where they grew up but they were concerned about uprooting me in the middle of high school. They asked me how I felt about their plan. I shrugged. It wasn’t like I had much going for me in the way of a social life. There was nothing about the geography or culture or anything else that would make me want to stay. Sure, I thought. A change would be… different. It might even be better.
Two years later I left home for college. There were no tearful goodbyes. I was eager to move on. I remember thinking, Can I go yet?
When I finished school, I was off to the big city, off to a career, off to the next adventure.
I enjoyed changing locations. I still do.
That’s one reason I didn’t buy a house until I was 44 years old. I didn’t want to be committed to a place beyond a security deposit and 30 days’ notice. No anchors.
Then I went a little insane and bought a house. It was what everyone was doing. It’s what grownups did. It was a great investment. Yadda yadda yadda.
So I stayed put and rooted. Then I rotted. I became stagnant and depressed. I wanted to move on, but there was the damn house to deal with. By then it was 2008. I had to wait out the housing crash and the recession. But finally… freedom.
But let’s say someone slipped into the Rolling Steel Tent one night and performed a personality transplant on me. Let’s say I woke up wanting to stay put somewhere. What would that somewhere be like?
Well, unlike the homesteading types above, I would not want a place in the boonies, far from people, civilization and resources. I already have that. For free. It’s called boondocking.
More like here
No, I’d want the opposite. I'd want what I don't have. I’d want to live in the middle of a large city. Someplace similar to Manhattan where I could step out the door and into the middle of all sorts of interesting, entertaining, enlightening things. A place with all the resources I could possibly want within walking distance. But incredibly cheap. And with perpetually great weather. That place doesn’t exist.
So I’ll keep wandering as long as I can. Maybe I’ll drop by the homesteads of former nomads. But I won’t stay forever.