Yesterday, we were driving home when Andrew mentioned to me that he would start looking for a house next year when I had time to decide if I wanted to stay here or not. My husband wants a house. Bad. He wants to do yard work, and buy a homeowners insurance policy, and organize a garage, and I think part of him is hoping a house will cement our family in one place for more than a couple of years. And though I felt guilty and almost ashamed to do it, I had to tell him that in a year I still won't want to stay here. I don't want to stay anywhere, and even though I love Portland and all there is to do here and the drippy weather and the colorful scarves and amazing underground food culture - well, Seattle is starting to look pretty good to me ... and Santa Cruz, California. They just are. And something in me aches to be in those places the way it ached to be in Portland this time last year.
I don't know what it is. A doctor in a hospital once plainly referred to it as 'change of geographic location ' a symptom of something though I can't remember what, and my roommate and I spent the next few years joking about it and whispering it to each other in bars and restaurants and in emails- one of those those things that is funny mostly because it's just SO TRUE. You know?
I have spent the past couple of years trying really hard to want to be in one place because many well-intentioned people have tried very hard to convince me that living in one place for a consistent length of time is important to afford my children stability. Stability, apparently, is very important to properly rear happy children.
I don't know, I just don't buy it I guess. And while I certainly would never insist on transplanting my family unwillingly due to my, errr, vagabond? tendencies - I no longer think that staying put offers my children any true stability.
My mother lived her entire life within a specific Houston zip-code and she provided zero stability and security. My father, on the other hand, spent a portion of my tenth grade year in Sweden, as in the country, and he remains my most stable relationship yet.
In retrospect, the things that made me feel secure weren't so much where we lived but what I could count on; trivial things like tuna casserole and a creaky kitchen table, or the fact that my Dad has never been afraid to gently tell me when I am in the wrong, or maybe not so gently. I can expect those things, I can count on them,there is no guessing or wandering about a reaction. It feels secure. And the most stable and secure relationships I have, ironically, are with the people that seem to move the most; Charity, Hannah, my Dad, Ross.
The girls may not be able to count on their return address, but I bet you my children can always expect that Boudreaux will poop on the floor, at least once a month. Spaghetti is always a side dish at Christmas, though neither Andrew or I can remember why. Grandma will come several times a year to take them on walks. Rats are always welcome, as pets, in the kitchen. Mom will always have heaps of plates but no glasses to drink from. As long as she is childless/unmarried/willing or maybe not even those Aunt Jackie will be in/out of our home. Ornaments are a family gift exchange, but that is pretty much it in the way of presents. During October, pumpkin ice cream is an acceptable dinner choice because of it's copious amounts of vitamins C and A. Sundays are family-call days and morning church. Their mother will obsessively vacuum but never dust, and their Dad always washes his feet before dinner. Peggy Lee, Devendra Banhart, Nina Simone, Plume Latraverse, and Aqualung are almost always playing in the living room, on repeat. Christmas will always be at home but all other holidays are a toss up. Their parents will always love them and parent them together without change or deterioration - the very definition of stability. They will live stable lives, just not in one place.
Children of divorced parents have a different perspective. There is no real stability, since it all ups and changes and so the things that truly make you feel secure, stable, real - well, they might not be what you think they are. People spend so much time harping on what happens when you grow up without a nuclear family to model after, but I reject that idea. I may have less of an idea what to do, but I sure know what doesn't work or what doesn't matter or what I shouldn't waste my time worrying about.
In my case, throw a parent in to the mix with mental illness, and let's talk about what really provides stability - and it sure as hell isn't where you live.
Don't worry, we aren't moving, at least not now - but it doesn't mean I don't want to. And that, at least is another thing you can count on.
