Vagabonds.

I came to the realization last night that Fisherman and I are collectively a couple without a home. Since we were married last summer and having moved to the island, we have "stuff" scattered in 3 states - New Mexico, Montana, and here in Alaska. I have begun the packing process for our exodus off this rock and in doing so want to ship some of my teaching materials out of here, knowing there will not be room on the truck. I started boxing some items up to take to the post office and realized last night...I have no idea where to ship these items TO.  UGH, {{hyperventilation}}!

I then began my Sunday self-reflection and realized that Fisherman thinks of Montana as home, I think of Farmington as home, but we collectively do not call any place our home.  I became almost frantic.  I get like this...I see a small little issue, chew on it for a long while, and then stick the nasty wad of gunk straight into my hair.  Fisherman's pet peeve is that I analyze every little thing TO DEATH and then analyze it again to find some other hidden meaning.  I have tried to convey to him that this is not solely a technique that I use, but women in general do not have an off switch.  Our brains are constantly in motion, constantly multi-tasking, and we are riddled with worry.

It scares me more than I can say that I do not have any plans beyond May 18th.  I am scared to death that I will not be able to get a job beyond this island.  I don't have a home.  In fact, lying in bed last night I was just turning this around in my head for another evolution when I asked Fisherman..."where do I belong?" and his sweet, comforting response was "you belong with me".  I felt better for the moment and was finally able to close my eyes and sleep.






Moving on to the next item for concern,

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