We're on the move again, but I have to admit that I'm really struggling.
The sun is shining brightly, there's a lovely breeze to keep it not too hot, but I can't shake the feeling that it's all coming undone. Most of the birds have disappeared. I think they're probably all nesting somewhere, but it is strange to have the world so quiet.
It's more than that, though.
I suppose it possibly stems from how I was raised. My parents settled in the township when I was quite young, so I don't really remember being on the move as a kid. It had it's own share of hardships staying in one place. In lean years, my parents would stress a lot. And it seemed every time I made a friend, it wasn't long before they were moving on to new and more exciting places.
But I always knew where home was. I knew where I belonged, and what to expect from the surrounding natural world.
Now, home is not a place. I feel like we've somehow let the kids down- not that the kids seem to even notice. This is their life, and they've never known it any different. And normally I enjoy the change of scenery and people, it's just that sometimes I wish we had a place of our own. Somewhere we could put down roots.
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