My husband Dave and I have an expression that we use – “we are not a nomadic people.” It basically means this – with the exception of college (and for Dave, a one-year post-college internship in a city several hours away), both of us have always lived within a 50-mile radius of the towns where we grew up.
I’m not saying that’s a good thing. Or a bad thing. But for us, the thought of moving somewhere that’s really different from our suburban New York reality, is for now, something that just doesn’t appeal to us, and thankfully, we’re both on the same page.
That’s not to say we don’t want to experience other things. We’re not exactly world travelers, but we’ve both traveled to most of the states in our own country, and to a handful of other countries.
One of my friends moves every few years – usually to a different country. Since her parents have moved from where she grew up, and many of her friends are in the same line of work and move just as frequently, she’s said that our family is the one constant in her life – that she can always come visit us when she’s in the country, and know how to find our house, and where everything is in it.
I’m sure that some people would find that pretty boring, but there’s something about the fact that this friend can come here once every few years and still find her way to make her own coffee in the morning, that makes me happy.