When I left for the Americas two months ago, I didn’t have a home to return to.
I had friends who’ve become family, a job I love, and a gorgeous corner of Australia that I knew I’d head back to – but I didn’t have a bed waiting for me, or my favourite shampoo and conditioner combo in the shower, or my clothes hanging in a wardrobe.
I had moved out the day I left Byron Bay; my few belongings boxed up in a shed, motorcycle being looked after by my sister, and no return address for when I would would touch down five weeks later.
But I wasn’t worried.
As a general rule, I don’t tend to worry too much. Besides, I knew of a few spots available in share-houses around the area. I wouldn’t be sleeping outside when I returned… I might just technically be homeless for a bit.
But I was right not to worry.
And I wouldn’t be homeless.
A message popped up in my inbox the day I arrived in Santa Monica: it was an invitation for a place to call my own. Friends had bought a caravan earlier this year and spent time (and money) gutting it out and renovating from a shell, with a plan to rent it out as an Airbnb place over the summer.
They did a phenomenal job – complete with queen bed, an oven and gas stovetop, fridge, sink, air-con, wifi, beautiful raw wooden finishes and a desk that looks through a window westward out through trees, over rolling hills and meadows and one can watch the sun set of an evening.
The only catch is that the bathroom and laundry are in their house, at the bottom of a short brick path that winds by the current overgrown garden/soon to be veggie patch.
They mulled it over and prayed it through, and generously offered for me to be that one who can watch the sun set over the hills and listen to the rain patter on the corrugated roof of the carport where the caravan lives.
I adore it here. Seriously. I am living in a dream; it’s that good.
This is my absolute best scenario, and a better set-up than I could have imagined: living solo in a tiny glorious home, with souls I love just metres away, ready for a tea and a chat or to share dinner any time I feel inclined.
I’m yet to pinch myself to check if it is indeed reality I’m in, but I don’t think I’m far off it.
And so here I am. I’ve found my home.
For now, at least.
Anyone who knows me knows I have the heart of an adventurer. Whilst I have one sister about to begin her studies to become a doctor and another who just landed the lead role in a musical production – which she was born to do, good on you girl! – I almost always have a flight booked for somewhere, ready to explore new places and search out my next quest, but don’t have much vision beyond that.
One of the biggest contentions within myself is the worry that I’m not enough. I wrote about it in one of my recent posts: the doubt that maybe I don’t have it all together. Maybe I need a ‘proper’ career, or to work towards owning a house. I mean, heading towards thirty, shouldn’t I be married already? Settled down? Have a degree behind me or a five year plan?
I don’t really tick any of those boxes that the world tells us is necessary to be ‘successful’ in life.
But I am completely satisfied and happy with the life I have lived – am living – and sadly, that’s more than a lot of others in that ‘successful’ category can say.
So onwards I go, prancing down the path that has led me here, and will lead me on to many an adventure yet.
Many an adventure soon.
I have an address now. I have my shampoo and conditioner in the shower. My clothes are folded and stacked in the shelves under my bed (no space for a wardrobe in this caravan!). I have a home.
I also have a dream.
That adventurous heart of mine has caught wind of a new path to conquer:
Inspired by three year old google searches still saved in my phone and spurred on by walking the Camino de Santiago just over a year ago, I have my sights set on a new journey to undertake in 2018.
The next few months will see me work hard, save harder, research, plan, prepare, budget, gather, and research some more.
The degree and career and house can wait.
Stay tuned, world:
I’m going for another walk.