Progress?

I very rarely respond to blogs.

I haven't been writing personal blogs lately because I now have to write blogs for a living. Which I'm not complaining about. Who wouldn't want to drink wine and write blogs for a living? Seeing as my professional life and personal life are actually..well, good at the moment I haven't really had that angsty drive that normally fuels my writing.

Anyway. I read a blog tonight that got me thinking, not just thinking but inspired me to write a response. Which of course got so long I didn't post it. The jist of it was a woman who has never felt the desire to commit to a person, which resonated with me. My un-posted response started like this:

"I can not remember a time in my life I wasn't on the move. While my peers were reading "Little House on the Prairie" I was engrossed in the Atlas of the World. My walls were covered in maps. When I was four my parents found me a mile from my house, sitting next to a canal, just sitting and pondering. At eight I got my first bike and the police picked me up in the next town. At twelve I decided that after lunch school really wasn't that interesting and I'd head home. Fifteen was spent stealing my mom's car and riding around the desert of New Mexico. When David and I were married he wouldn't even blink when I threw him in the car to drive to Kingman Arizona, 200 miles from where we were living, "Because they had pie". I could go on and on... I have never once had the desire to settle down. Moving and travelling have been as natural and as instinctive to me as breathing. A former boyfriend once said to me in a disapproving tone that I had a Peter Pan complex. I thought for a moment then said "Who wouldn't want to be Peter Pan?". Some of us are wired differently, which is a good thing. Weather it's human nature or genetics it doesn't matter. We're the ones who get to buy extra passport pages and entertain the Wendy's of the world with stories of grand adventure.

After I wrote the last sentence I had nothing else to say. Me. The woman who has moved 85 times in 36 years had no other advice to another woman who didn't find it in her nature to commit. It was a disconcerting feeling. I'm prone to bouts of depression and the last few days have found me in a strange state. Kira's death and absence from the house, the separation from my children, my mom's health scare, money issues..emotions I keep to myself and would normally handle on my own. It hit me. I wasn't alone, and it wasn't such a bad thing. In fact, I was actually....content. And. Happy. I have never looked for, desired or wanted someone to take care of me, but to come home to someone who understands me and accepts my weirdness was something unexpected, and quite cool. I came home to a clean house, fresh sheets, a hot meal, glass of wine and a sweet, caring man who wanted nothing more than to take care of me. I then realized that this is probably the greatest adventure I've ever been on.

/end emotional shit.