I have led somewhat of a nomadic life, some might even assume I was an Army brat. But no, I was the child of a father who, himself, had a very nomadic life as a child, and that continued on through his early adult hood. New firms to join, new jobs to do, graduate school, or just plain restlessness, we moved. A lot. I kind of enjoyed it because I liked making new friends and discovering new places. I made the best of a stressful situation.
My college years, like many my age, involved moving from one rental to another, as time and circumstance pushed me out of one place to another. Those were the days when possessions were few and backs were strong.
This nomadic norm continued through to my later adulthood, and, daughter in tow, we moved when we needed to. Meanwhile, my parents had abandoned their back and forthing and settled into a beautiful prairie style home in San Diego, and stayed there for 40 years. Always, of course, with remodeling going on. A nomad's second best option.
There has been a great peace since moving here. Yes, mostly due to my husband's love, but also because I feel I am home. And a great home it is, perfectly suited to us. It's a happy home, and we will find ourselves expressing our joy at random moments. It's as if we just moved in and are looking around and, with great surprise, think, "We scored!"
I think we did, don't you?