Picture
this: a flatbed trailer bumping down a muddy dirt road in La Jara, New Mexico
during a steady light rain. On the flatbed stands a clawfoot bathtub. Waving
above the tub are the fronds of a potted palm. That was the closing scene of my
sixtieth move. For the first time in my life, I said it would be my last. A
year and a half later, we moved into an apartment at the corner of Pennsylvania
and Montgomery in Albuquerque. Nine months more, and we were unpacking into my
little yellow box. Three years after that—Kalamazoo. One year later, move
number sixty-four—back into the little yellow box.
On September 7, 2011, I began my
Year of Standing Still. Quite a few readers came along on the standing-still
journey, an experiment to see if I could put down roots in Albuquerque and
learn to love the city I’ve never cared for. I set about my experiment very
deliberately, and I did pretty well at it. But maybe not well enough.
Last month, my friend Sarah, who
happens to live in Oakland, California, and I started talking about the
possibility of my living in the Bay Area once more. For thirteen years, with
moves in between to and from Denmark, New Zealand, and south of Santa Cruz, I
called the Bay Area home, and I loved it. I still love it. I suppose that,
bottom-line, I left because of that Third Culture Kid restlessness. Maybe, too,
I had some things to resolve back here in New Mexico. My excuse was that I
would never be able
to afford to buy a house in the Bay Area. Somebody made a
cynical joke once of an abandoned building outside San Jose that was literally
a shack. They had spray-painted on the side of it, “$200K Fixer-upper.” Way too
close to the truth.
Owning a home has lost its appeal.
I’m tired of home and yard maintenance. Most of my domestic projects fail to
come to fruition because writing is my priority. Cheyenne is heading off to
grad school. The time seems right to sell. I researched staying in Albuquerque,
where I have definitely put down some roots, although they’re not yet terribly
deep. I researched the Bay Area, where I will not have to own a vehicle. The
clincher, when I listed pros and cons was that in Albuquerque, due to weather
extremes and a rather uninteresting neighborhood, I have to force myself to go
outdoors to walk—my main form of exercise. That is never the case in the Bay Area.
Besides, some of my closest friends live there.
Because housing is expensive there,
I will most likely end up in a studio. This will be a different version of my
Tiny House Dream, and I’m excited about being creative about a small space.
Besides, with the entire San Francisco Bay as my backyard, how much indoor
living space do I need? Move
#65 is in progress. The first yard sale will be
held on Saturday, May 4. Painting and yard-cleaning are ongoing with the help
of Cheyenne’s friend Kate. Everyone I tell gets excited for me. And for
themselves because they want to visit San Francisco. All but one person—my
brother Bob, who likes to visit me when he travels to New Mexico. I’ll miss
that, but I promise to go see him in Grand Rapids.















