"Sometimes life...most times I feel just like a sailboat"

My mind finds visceral expression on the ocean. The waves crinkle and pulse like the neurons charging through my brain canals... if that's even how it really works.

"It sounds like difficult season of uncertainty for you."
The question made me laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. But it's like being out at sea, you learn to find stability in the constant pitch and sway." I've got good sea legs, as my parents and grandparents would say.

Is it the plight of the adventurer to always start over? To settle into unsettledness?

I have an ache for things remote. The curve of the horizon calls me. "I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'/Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fade/For ever and forever when I move."

I will never be satisfied.

But I am also tired. 6 years of roaming and changing isn't that long a time, so what's three more years? And hasn't it all been glorious beyond imagining? Hard as hell at times, lonely at times, but glorious. When I really think about it all, I am deeply grateful and ashamed of ever feeling otherwise. 

And I know myself. The moment I stop and believe I've landed for good the air will suddenly grow think and stifling and I'll need to step out.

And maybe it's right to never feel completely comfortable, to click into place. It certainly keeps you on your toes. Lin's right, "that's a great way to make a writer - be a little out of place everywhere."

And no matter how lonely I feel, I can't go anywhere in this little universe that doesn't belong to my father, that isn't (in a way) home.