“This must be the place, this is where I’ll be.”

It’s only been a year-and-a-half since Jane moved to the beach. Upon making this move, she still hasn’t figured out if she’s left her hometown, or if she’s returned to it.

As discussed in previous writings, Jane has found refuge in various, sometimes unexpected places: her 1997 Jeep Cherokee she basically lived out of when she was 45 minutes away from her friends in high school; that boy with the nice smile; her friends’ homes; that other boy with a great laugh; her college dorm; that boy who fell in love with her; her 1999 VW Cabrio; the tiny, mini teal-colored house small as a shoebox where she and her friends stayed at the beach one summer; and that boy who’s heart she broke.

It must be recognized that at one point Jane was thrilled with renting and moving and exploring and relocating at about the same time every year, when a lease would end or when she would terminate it, losing her security deposit. But Jane is no longer simply searching for a place to crash and doesn’t just want a roof over her head – she wants to reinvest in a home of her own.

So what makes a place “home?” Is it the people that encompass it, or an associated feeling? Can someone be in love with a feeling, a place – the company that it keeps?

In Dido’s song, “Life For Rent,” she sings, “If my life is for rent, and I don’t learn to buy, then I deserve everything that I get, cause nothing I have is truly mine.” But Jane doesn’t think Dido is referring to an actual house. Instead, it sounds like “buying” means permanence, a commitment. And being a 20-something, she wants to know whether or not to buy, especially in this market.

After all the parties have been attended, the guests have been accounted for and the Open Houses have been explored, being single can feel like being open to the elements with no safe harbor from other singles and their insecurities that stem from a certain lack of return.

Jane has also learned that paying rent gives her a sense of freedom, a very long leash, frolicking from one setting to another. But it has also left her broke at the end of a year, searching for a new place, without any kind of return on investment.

But what happens when one buys? Once every year there won’t be the fresh start found in moving and redecorating. However, committing to a certain type of permanence could allow Jane to look at the same thing in a different light. She can learn to appreciate the constant, the stability, while also finding new things she’d like to tweak and improve upon. Without leaving things behind, she can take her time in seeing something brand new, if she looks for the right things.

And with this, perhaps “home” actually doesn’t have to stay put, and one doesn’t have to stay put in order to establish a home. And this is where Jane turns on her Talking Heads album to hear the words, “Home is where I want to be…but I guess I’m already there.”

A Little Ditty

Ever take a good, hard look at a shell that’s been removed from the ocean? When really searched for, they’re found all over. They sit on windowsills, countertops, in clusters within a glass container. They might even be glued to adorn a frame, or hang off the chain of a necklace. There is a similar feature they all share, those shells and rocks that no longer live in the ocean.

Physical challenge literally shapes what these treasures of the sea become. When removed, they no longer face the natural elements, no longer change shape, no longer break into pieces or tell a story of its journey. Sitting so lovely as decorative placement, serving as memorabilia for a trip not to be forgotten, has stunted its growth.

Pretty as they may look, these seemingly inanimate objects thrive on nourishment. Nourishment by fresh salt water, wind and tide. They change shape and texture through the movements of the ocean’s waters, the pounding of the rhythmic waves, water squishing through its porous surface. Devoid of this environment, the stones and shells of the sea dry out, showcasing a lackluster hue that is brittle to the touch.

When something is distanced from it’s natural element, it no longer sparkles the way it used to. Take animals in a zoo, and in that case, consider now people in an office. The artificial light, for one, is enough to make anyone seasonally depressed, year round. But so many people manufacture their livelihood within walls that it must be natural, right?

Only Jane can’t help but wonder if lacking adventure and settling into a routine is the natural way? Is nature reflected within the stagnant aspect of life, simply doing what is safe? Jane could sit on a shelf like a porcelain doll, without scars, without life. But those scars she has acquired through jumping off that shelf tell a story. The mistakes she makes and the lessons she learns write that story.

While some dolls simply sit right next to the seashells that have been collected, they don’t age. If wisdom comes with age and age from living life, then these dolls merely collect dust. Jane thinks it may have something to do with being stuck, and a system.

According to what Jane has observed, there exists a natural order of things. Whether or not that natural order was manipulated or contrived is open for questioning, like, “What came first, the chicken or the egg?” Or, maybe the youthful playground song “First comes love, then comes marriage” explains the Feng Shui of life. But she has a sneaking suspicion that song is a bit out of tune.