Nomadically Inclined

Nomadically Inclined

It always begins with a shift in energy, usually subtle, sometimes electric. A universal whisper moves through the people, places, and things around me. It’s an invitation to move again, to connect and reconnect with the familiar souls scattered along my path.

But movement has its costs. Some friendships fade while I’m away, and the ability to reweave those threads can slip through my fingers. Growing up before cell phones or constant contact, it never occurred to my young mind to call, to reach out and hold a connection across the miles.

After separating, I resisted the travel bug for years. The unknown felt frightening. I’d spent so much of my life in survival mode - first as a child moving back and forth between parents in different towns, then as a young mother who quit high school at seventeen to raise a family. Independence didn’t come naturally; it had to be earned slowly, piece by piece.

In 2021, I finally ventured out—alone—to Florida. For the first time in my adult life, I was truly out in the world by myself. That experience cracked something open.

Before that, stagnation made me angry. I’d speak as a victim of circumstance whenever I felt stuck or unable to evolve. Maybe that tendency still lingers. Perhaps this “sense”, this pull toward motion is both habit and healing, a pattern reborn each time I feel nomadically inclined.

It’s as if I’m stitching together a colorful quilt of my life, one square at a time. Each move, each place, each version of myself woven into something whole.