No matter how often you move, there are things that you forget. Every time. You forget that you won’t know which drawer to put Sharpie markers and batteries in (they always end up in the same drawer), you’ll turn to grab the knife from where is “used to be,” you won’t know where the Target is, or where to take your dry cleaning, or where to buy the best prosciutto and you can forget about that guy who offered to sharpen your knives for free if you bring him cookies THAT guy doesn’t exist in your new land.
I have a gypsy soul, I’ve never missed my own bed, I don’t have the home sick gene, I’m never nervous about new roads or new words or new food. I look forward to building a new database of people and place. But there is a learning curve with a new place. Things I didn’t know that I didn’t know. I’ve had to adapt to a new climate, one that was not 80 degrees on Christmas, and involves a near wardrobe change when I need to run out to the car to grab the beer I left in the back.
But the upside is that beer would have been overly warm in my old land, in this place, it was the perfect 43 degrees and ready to drink.
Now I just need to find a guy to trade knife sharpening for baked goods and I’ll be half way there.