#12- Somewhere Over The Rainbow

I heart you San Fran

There are many ups and downs to living on the road. Home currently being what one day we may call our car, then another our tent, or on other days a friends house. What do we want to do today? With no ties to schedules, time, or the humdrum of work, with only the weather being a major determiner of where the day may lead us, this is a major up to our current living conditions. Despite the beauty of all that, being away from our actual “home”, which for 9+ years we’ve considered the Bay Area, and also the community and loved ones we have in Nevada City where we grew up, has been looming larger on us as each day goes by.

There is nothing, anywhere, like the Yuba River

Downtown NC

            It’s funny, the concept of home. For so long, when people would ask me where home was, the automatic answer was always Nevada City, even though at this point I’d been living in the Bay Area for a number of years. Maybe it took building strong enough ties to people, or the city itself, or just finding my personal niche amongst what was once a foreign place to me, but suddenly it felt right to call the Bay Area home. The thing is, I think the concept of home isn’t necessarily where you may be physically living at any given time, it has more to do with that obsolete place that you feel the most connected and drawn to (although, in a perfect world these two collide). When I was younger, that place was always wherever I lived with my Mom. While we moved around to a few different houses in Nevada City when I was a kid, I remember each one providing that feeling of sanctity, with my Mom being the common denominator. As I grew older and out of the house, it took a while to shake that life-long home is where my Mom is thread (which I think no matter how old I get, will always be there to a degree), and find a home of my very own.

Our lovely living room

Our breakfast nook

At this point and age, I am finding myself transfixed all over again with the problem of finding that place to call “home,” in that I’m torn. Choosing between that place that Bree and I have grown connected to and love, or that place that in our hearts has always felt like home, is frickin’ hard. One of the things we wanted to get from being out on the road for a few months was a sense of clarity in this debate, but it’s not coming as easily as we hoped. I do know one thing, that as much as my Mom provided that sanctity for me as a kid, I now find that wherever I am living with Breelyn, gives it a feeling of home in itself. Which is huge. It’s just finding that sense of community, aesthetic beauty and built in activities we love (the ultimate home trinity) to complete the home picture. Any advice? 

Love our kitchen

Baby Baxter on our bed...