On Living Out of a Suitcase
I do it a lot – though perhaps not as much as I think I do. For the past six years, any period of time I have spent somewhere has had a built-in deadline. These vary, of course. A couple of days travelling stacked up against the three or so months at a time in boarding school aren’t exactly comparable, but I’ve always treated them the same way. I’m not always thinking about it, but I am always conscious of the finiteness of my time anywhere. This has been a common thought I’ve had while on my trip with friends – constantly being aware of my stuff and where it is and when I next have to pack it all up.
This isn’t something most people have on their minds, outside of going on a holiday, perhaps. The reason I think it’s such a prevailing notion in my mind and concept in my life is to do with something I’ve mentioned here before. I’m going to give the same preceding comment, though, that I in no way take my position for granted and that the statement is not me trying to look pitiable but only to best convey how I feel. I don’t feel like I have a home. That is to say, a default place in which I spend my time. Or even more simply, there’s nowhere with which I feel a particular connection.
As that is the case, I’ve just grown accustomed to anticipating the end of my time somewhere, and having to move, for however long, somewhere else. Since I’ve shifted into being able to make some of my own choices, and generally to more independence and freedom, I have noticed a definite preference for spending longer periods of time in places. I love being able to settle down and forget about that deadline. It might even have something to do with my procrastination, insofar as I love the responsibility of having to pack up and move to be as far into the future as possible. The main reason, though, for why I prefer to have longer gaps between a move is that it gives the opportunity to set up habits and routines. Not all of those habits and routines are good, and there’s definitely something to be said about controlling how I develop them, but there are few greater comforts for me than being afforded the time to let those routines grow.
I’m happy to say that of the six or so moves I have in the pipeline, there are two that hit the one-month mark. Better than that, I’m getting some of the shorter stays out of the way soon, so I can look forward to that suitcase graduating to being a cupboard, if I’m lucky. I mentioned earlier the comfort I seek in routines and habits during my longer stays, and I’ve found that I foster the same need for comfort in my more nomadic times. What that expresses itself as is limiting myself to doing things I know I’ll enjoy doing, which in retrospect, always makes those periods of time less interesting and generally harder to distinguish from one another. I am so ready to once again be in the position to try new things, and actually explore these unique locations a bit more than I would otherwise be able to.