Nomad

When I was a kid, I somehow got it into my head that I had to move every three years. First a house in Raleigh Hills, a house on Deleware St., a house on 8th off of Portland Blvd. in NE, then out to Aloha.

At the age of 10, my third year at our family home in Aloha, I started wondering why we weren't looking for a place to move. Why weren't we getting ready to move? We didn't, and there we were until I turned 21.

I spent 14 years of my life there. My father died while I lived in that house. In the end, my mother informed me in no uncertain terms, that if she were to die with that house in her posession, she would make sure that we would have to pay for it. She wasn't about to let us have it for free. I told her she could keep her fucking house, I didn't want it and wouldn't accept it if she offered it to me.

At 21, she kicked me out for refusing to continue to pay half the mortage and bills when she moved in husband number 2.

That first year I moved 9 times, even for 1 month living in a large closet of a friend of mine. It felt fucking great to me to be a nomad. Able to pick up at a moments notice. Able to work out issues and logistics with new folks. Able to change and move with the times.

I only stayed in one place for over three years once since that day mom kicked my ass out 23 years ago. That was 14th and Taylor in SE with a large beautiful Empress Tree in the tree strip out front and rather horrific times happening inside the house.

Shusli and I are going home. We are taking the first steps to get there to be at our land base and to help our people and live long successful lives in doing so. Filled boxes are all over the living room. Jake the cat is nervous but in good spirits. We are all happy and taking that first big step to getting to the land and staying put, where we should be.

Next year, we should have some property, and we will be settling in for the long haul.

Life is good, and we are happy!