When growing up, we didn't have enough money to go away to fancy places.  We went to DC a lot, and other places that did not cost a ton.  I didn't get to leave the country until I was 35.  I have left every year since, even up to twice a year.  I still go to DC every year.  It is the single place I feel truly at home.  

We have not gone anywhere since our November DC jaunt.  The coronavirus has put a halt to that.   

When growing up, my parents - or maybe just mother - liked to move a lot.  The family called them "the gypsies".  They had live four different places by the time I was born.  I have not started my education in one place and ended it in the same place.  

When I started working at 14, I made a habit of doing my thing at a job, leaving when I got bored or felt I hit a plateau, and moving on.  I did go back to three different places - put two out of business! - but I never stayed a place longer than six years.  The place we lived when I was in fourth to college was the longest place my parents ever live in one house.  The current job I have is the longest I have ever worked in one place.  

My mother always told me I was too picky when finding friends.  As a result, I befriend people who are not compatible with me.  Even those never last long.  I get tired of the things that bother me - racism, stupidity, ignorance, poor treatment of me, and so on - and let the association dissipate.

Nothing in my life has lasted long, out of boredom or frustration, for the most part.

We have lived in our house since the early 2000s.  However, I have been getting restless.  Really restless.  Like, dying to get out and move.  I am looking at homes, looking at our finances and trying to figure out if we can get a really tiny place to try out a new area.  I am finding myself riding in the car and dying to leave.  And I don't really care if I see anyone here again, for the most part.  I mean, there are a couple of people I keep in touch with in other parts of the country, so if a connection is meant to last, it will.

I love the kids I teach.  I love my house and yard.  I love the town I live in.  I love the places I can go hiking and bike riding.  And, once the pandemic is over, I will love going back to the club and seeing all the friends there.  So why do I need to get out so badly?

I realized a couple of days ago that my traveling satisfied a need to get away.  When I go away, I immerse myself in where I am.  I rarely go online.  For that duration, I sever all connections.  This place in New Jersey and the people here do not exist for me.   And I am myself, enjoying the wholeness of the place - art, music, pubs, food, architecture, hikes, gardens.  Yeah, I have no friendships there, but there doesn't seem to be much missing when that happens.  It's not like I have any truly trusting, deep friendships here.   But that loneliness doesn't matter when I am away.  The miles negate the sadness.  I am in my element and no one treats me badly.  I am not expected to do for others who will not give back in return, or if they do, there are strings attached.  And that satisfies my restlessness.  

If everyone keeps doing the things that keep this virus spreading in this godforsaken country and keeps my passport useless, there might just be a "for sale" sign in the front and no more Vasa in NJ.  I need out.