Place.

I was recently reminded that a lot of people are very passionate about their place in life. I'm not referring to their social status or career, but their physical residence, the place they call home. It was one of those moments where I was slightly taken by surprise because it doesn't generally occur to me to gush about my own home. Sure, occasionally I like to toot the flute of my homelands, but for the most part I just try to appreciate where I am and all the lovely attributes it houses, physical, cultural & social landscape alike. It's not a lack of enthusiasm, but a contented, quiet appreciation.

I suppose I didn't realize that I might view the idea of 'place' differently than others. Over the years, I have been fortunate to reside in what I consider to be very beautiful places -- from living a short bike ride from the South Beach of Martha's Vineyard to the Italian villa in Florence, Italy while studying abroad to growing up in the country a few short miles from Lake Michigan along with all the places in between. I've also travelled a fair amount and seen some lovely landscapes. In all the years & all the travels & all the apartments and rooms though, I have never once been held in place by the place. My choice of home has consistently been driven by people; love and family have always been behind where I live.

Because of this fact and despite a passionate love for certain locales, I have always felt transient when it comes to place. I have never lingered for long when I move on. I may walk through the empty rooms of a beloved apartment one last time, but I have never shed a tear for the place I'm leaving behind. It's not for lack of fondness, but because I know that all the memories will come with me in my mind's eye. At any moment, I can conjure the images of that other existence. They may not be perfect remembrances, but they hold the important aspects, the things that count. In this way, I feel as if no place that is imprinted on my heart is ever lost. It is simply a part of me. And by taking the place with me, I am free to follow my heart no matter how outwardly exotic or mundane the locale may be.

Are there things that I miss from the places I've lived or visited? Absolutely. I think part of me will always crave the smell of salt-water in late spring because I loved the moves & visits to the Vineyard at that time of year. Rainy autumn days inevitably conjure pangs of nostalgia for November in Italy where I swear it rained every day at 5pm. And when subzero gusts leave me gasping for breath, I will always see snow-lighted, cloudless nights at my parents' house. I think from time to time, my heart will always long for a place left long ago as well as ache for a new place, a change of scenery. It is part of who I am. At the end of the day, though, I know that just as I've moved on from all the places in the past, someday I will leave this place, too, so I want to enjoy the time I have here. And as always, I'll carry the important stuff with me in my heart & mind making room in the present for my next stop. No one spot more important than the last, only infinitely different.