Unfortunately, we do not own our space. We are borrowing it from a wonderful human being who lets us live how we want (in accordance with local laws) in exchange for a small sum of money. But each spring I live somewhere not completely my sole responsibility, I am reminded of the permanent state of temporary that we are living in. Not the physical "temporary" that death finds us all, but more a sense of this is not my final habitat, this is not the place where I will grow old. But I continue to try to live each day as if this is my last. I pretend this is my final habitat and try to establish a garden to feed us in the winter, though I am not guaranteed to live in this house when winter comes. We make connections in our community, and foster them wholeheartedly, knowing the next season could very well see us seeking new footholds in a different community.
Honestly, this is an emotionally exhausting existence! Swinging between a temporary state of permanence and a permanent state of temporary. I know the cliche that everything changes and the only constant is change. I am ready to stop moving house, but I am also ready to leave this house. I want to be with My People, but I have great people here who have become My People. Without these connections, we would not be happy and thriving.