I am never completely here nor there. In late winter, I migrate south. In late spring, I migrate north. What am I?
If you were responding to this riddle, you might guess, "a bird." I prefer the answer "vagabond," however. I am a vagabond, "a person, usually without a permanent home, who wanders from place to place." Migrating south refers to me returning to Charlottesville after the winter holidays, and migrating north refers to me returning to my home in Northern Virginia after finals to finally begin the summer.
Much like other college students, I am spread across multiple homes. My dishes, lamp and carpet are in Charlottesville; my mattress, armoire and shoe rack are in Northern Virginia and soon my clothes, jackets and favorite books will be in Spain.
There are certain advantages of these constant moves. Sometimes it's nice to escape Northern Virginia's congested interstates for Charlottesville's rolling country roads. Sometimes it's refreshing to ditch Northern Virginia's hustle-and-bustle for apple picking, wine tasting and hiking in the Shenandoah Mountains.
Other times, it's beneficial to escape Charlottesville's bubble of preppiness and overachievement for street clothes and relaxation. Occasionally, it's necessary to escape the world of 20-year-olds for the real world of kids, adults and elderly people.
I don't even mind the packing and unpacking, which is usually my least favorite part of every trip. Well, maybe that's because I've stopped unpacking and therefore eliminated the need to actually pack up again. Much to my mother's chagrin, stacked crates and cardboard boxes clutter my basement all summer long and are the key source of the "household litter" she so often complains about.
The problem arises when I have forgotten something important in Charlottesville during my stay in Northern Virginia or vice versa. I have forgotten my phone charger and an employment form in Charlottesville and my TV cord and favorite dress in Northern Virginia. The mail is an expensive, but sometimes necessary, option. Furnishing two homes is also expensive, not to mention a complete hassle. I am forced to buy a mattress, desk, bed frame, box spring and couch when I have perfectly functional ones at home, and I have to transport all of these things in a tiny Prius. Why did I choose a compact, cute, gas efficient car instead of a bulky SUV that would at least have a chance of fitting all of these things?
Another problem arises when I need to provide a mailing address for paperwork. I am forced to choose between my Northern Virginia and Charlottesville addresses. For example, when my laptop crashed, I had to send it in with a return address. Thinking repairs would take one week at the most, I gave my Charlottesville address. Fourteen weeks later, I switched the return label to my Northern Virginia address and wasted 120 minutes on hold with the Service Depot. My roommate almost missed a job offer because it was sent to her Charlottesville address during the summer when she was back at home. Luckily, she called to see what her job status was and was met with a pleasant, if not somewhat frustrating, surprise. Even when forms specify "current" and "permanent" addresses, I feel weird putting my home in Northern Virginia as my permanent address since I'll probably never live there permanently again. I used to say that "I have lived in the same house my entire life," but how can I say that when I live in Charlottesville nine months of the year?
And just when I thought I had enough homes in the picture, I will be entering one more. In a few weeks, I will be living with a host family in Spain for several months. After a weekend of packing, my life is in suitcases again: one sturdy red suitcase, one gray duffel and one monogrammed blue backpack. I may as well be used to it by now.
Most people crave a regular change of scenery; that's why they buy time shares at resorts like Massanutten, second homes in the form of beach houses on the lake, quaint cottages in the great outdoors and condos with Jacuzzis and thousands of cable channels. I get this change of scenery at least every three months, built right into my schedule. I know I should consider myself lucky; some people don't even have one home, others work a lifetime to save up for a second and here I am with three different places to live. All I can think is that one day, I will drop my vagabond title and settle down in just one place.
Sheila's column runs biweekly Mondays. She can be reached at s.bushman@cavalierdaily.com.
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