“You’re all about being somewhere else.” A potential friend told me that during college orientation week. He was right. I was too busy trying to prove I was too cool for the room. We never became actual friends; my fault, not his, and my loss.

I preach so much about paying attention. Not getting lost in a phone; really thinking about where you are, what you’re doing, why. But can that be carried too far? If I’m always questioning whether I’m in the right place, living the right life, am I forgetting to be actually here, living it? Am I not appreciating what I have?

Almost everyone I know wants to be somewhere else. Hannah wants London proper, not the farthest reaches of Romford. Kate wants anything but Walthamstow, but will settle for Bath. Sarah wants France but actually Surrey, but Drew just wants not to get beat up. Maddy says she’s N7 til death but actually she takes a break in Nice every six weeks. I think she’s got it sorted.

Rebecca asked me – shop chitchat – where my perfect place would be. “It’s not one place,” I told her, “it’s two.” No one place ticks all the boxes; everywhere is a compromise. You need two, each to be an escape for the other.

Think about it: You go on vacation and after a few days start looking forward to going home. You’re home, but dreaming of vacation destinations. We always want to be where we’re not, and we never appreciate where we are til we leave it.

I never saw the morning 'til I stayed up all night
I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light
I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long
I never heard the melody until I needed the song ¹

Okay, so that’s sorted. Two places. Bringing balance to the Force. …Where?

The thing about home ed is that once you start questioning the system it’s hard to know where to stop. We’re saying “This shit is broken, okay, we’ll design our own.” We’ve opened the door and the whole fucking world is on the other side.

But it’s always easier to alter something that already exists than it is to design from scratch. I’m a great reorganizer; I’m not an architect. I find working with constraints an exciting challenge; a completely blank space would be paralyzing.

One place has to be a city. Start there. Or… list all the things I want, total, and then make sure they’re all represented – distributed somehow between the two places? Ok then:

Theatre
Swimmable water
Good food
No need for a car
Different country
Friends/family close by

It’s a start.

Richard was saying that he’s happy now. He’s got this life, here, figured out, and it works. And I agree. But that’s the point where I say, That means we’ve finished here, right? I left NY not because I didn’t love it but because I knew what it was to live in NY, and I did love it, but I’d done it. I wanted something new. And now I know what it is to live in London, and it works for us now but there will come a time when it will have been enough.

Only in complete privacy am I allowed to denigrate England, so I’ll repeat instead what Kate told me yesterday:
"This is the definition of depressing: sitting on the bus home, it’s raining, 4pm, it’s already dark, you’re sitting next to a stranger coughing."

There are many adjectives to describe the other places I’ve lived, but England really has a lock on grim.

I’m not sure a move to Bath will help her with that. It’s something, but is it enough? Hopefully at least it's enough for the next ten years. It helps to remember that you don’t have to move anywhere forever.

Despite what Instagram influencers would have us believe: A Forever Home is not necessarily a desirable thing. Buying a place and deciding to stay in it for the rest of your life does not make you an adult.

My uncle once told me that his definition of adulthood was owning matching mugs, which is sort of the Forever Home ideal writ small. But I’ve never wanted matching mugs. In point of fact, Richard and I decided years ago that mugs were the ideal souvenir. Because it’s important to buy a souvenir – you have to make a point of it – but we wanted something useful, not just decorative. Mugs are the perfect solution. Plus over time they break so then you have an excuse to go away and find another one.

It’s appealing, the Forever Home. A place that is ours with everything in its place, where we always know where the Christmas tree will go, where we can paint the wainscotting and build a greenhouse out of discarded windows and not worry about resale appeal. It’s fun to imagine. But that’s all. It’s a fantasy, and like all fantasies it’s not meant to come real.

When you’re a kid, being an adult is simple.

And when I grow up
I will be smart enough to answer all
The questions that you need to know
The answers to before you're grown up ²

There are markers, after all: At 6 you can rock climb; at 8 you can swim alone; at 12 you can baby-sit; at 16 you can drive; at 18 you can vote; at 21 you can drink; at 25 you can rent a car. But after that you’re on your own. Your brain is fully formed, congratulations and good luck out there.

But we keep searching. We keep wanting to be told, yes, you’ve made it, you’re here.

"I'm so glad that you finally made it here,"
"You thought nobody cared, but I did, I could tell,"
And "This is your year," and "It always starts here,”
And oh-oh oh-oh-oh oh-oh, "You're aging well." ³

But only Dar Williams is there for us. We have to craft adulthood ourselves. From scratch, every time.

¹Tom Waits, "San Diego Serenade"
²Tim Minchin, "When I Grow Up"
³Dar Williams, "You're Aging Well

Recipe: Sweet Potato Tea Cake but for god's sake leave off the meringue.