I never wanted to run away and join the circus.
My fear of clowns withstanding, I never found the appeal in running away from home and living some sort of strange gypsy lifestyle. Even as I got older there was never a desire to go and explore and travel and be free, or whatever it is exactly that attracts people to such a life.
I am not saying that there is anything wrong with traveling about aimlessly or joining the circus (except for the clown part, because there is nothing good about clowns. Nothing. At all. Ever.) These are very valid lifestyles for people who enjoy those sorts of things. I am simply not one of those.
I am really a homebody. I like having roots. I like having the same place to go to night after night, year after year. The idea of some day having my grandchildren running around a house that I have lived in for half my life is incredibly appealing. Having a lifetime worth of memories invested in the space around me is just comforting.
I love that my grandmothers house (which is the house I grew up in) is still her house. I love that when I visit it has memories that are over 20 years old, but are still there. It almost makes me a little ill to think that after she dies the house will be sold and someone will make new memories there. They will sleep in my room, play in my garden, swim in my pool, and write over the memories I made.
I know that they won't really write over them. The memories are mine for as long as I can hold onto them. I do not need the place to still be there. Still it is nice to still have it. To be able to physically point to something and be able to say "See this is where that thing happened."
I suppose that makes me ridiculously nostalgic or something, but I don't really care. Hell I cry at Hallmark commercials and I am not afraid to admit it.
I am a sentimental nostalgic optimist.
There I said it and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
There is nothing wrong with me wanting to have deep roots just as there is nothing wrong with having no roots at all. In some ways I sort of envy people who can just pick up and move on a whim. They can go to new places, meet new people, and start new lives. They can have splendid adventures in strange and exotic places and see the world. They are not tethered by anything physical. They can move with the wind and be free.
The romantic side of me thinks that is all so lovely. It is thrilling and mysterious in a way, and almost enticing.
The practical side of me knows that while the brochure for the wild gypsy lifestyle might be fantastic with its glossy pictures of adventure, the fine print will speak of things I would never be able to deal with. Instability, loneliness, and uncertainty among them.
I suppose practical and pragmatic can be added to the list of things I am. I like knowing where I will be sleeping, that I can afford the things I want and need, that I have a set community around me that I can rely on. I like all those mundane things in my life.
I am certain the argument can be made that running away with say the circus does fulfill a lot of those mundane needs. You always have a community around you (of course your community involves clowns which is ooky), they simply move with you from place to place. You always know where you will sleep, it just isn't always the same night to night. There is a level of stability there, it is just mobile. All the adventure and motion without so much of the instability and uncertainty.
So maybe running away and joining the circus isn't all that terrible and idea.
Except for the clowns.