For the last year, Cameron and I have been living as nomads; never really staying in one place long enough get settled, and making our way on the generosity of others (and the availability of their basements). While we fancy the idea of taking our time to find “the place where we’ll settle down one day”, it’s been difficult not having somewhere to call our own.
Last week, we got the call that an apartment we’d been looking at was all ours! You know, once the paperwork was done. A beautiful, spacious second-floor flat with an awesome view was suddenly right there at my fingertips. And I was terrified. I guess I still am.
This will be the third time we’ve moved in a year, not counting various shufflings-around. Even before then, neither of us had a place that was truly ours, whether it was a town home or something with a mortgage. The realization that we’ll be staying in one place for a long time–that we’ll be making ourselves a home–is hard for me to digest and still more than a little unreal. We, as the future Mr. and Mrs. Hunting, are going to be paying our own real utilities, getting mail delivered to our own mailbox, and coming home to a door that leads to our own place.
This may not be our “forever-home”, and instead only act as another stepping-stone in the grand scheme of things, but as Cameron put it to me last night: “It’s the next quest on our real-life adventure.”
Now I just need to conquer Cardboard Box Castle, and avoided the dreaded junk-monsters that are waiting to eat me while I pack supplies for this here journey. I KNEW there was a reason I should be scared!