how to be at home in a new city
At the end of May, I bought a house in Wilmington, NC. Yes, I have a sister who lives in town, and yes, my son had recently been staying with her. But my relationship with this port city near the Atlantic Ocean started before either of them were official residents. I first visited in January over seven years ago, mere days after my ex decided to end our 25-year marriage. It was an emotional and stressful time, and I decided to visit my younger sister living with her family just outside of Raleigh at the time. A friend offered a free condo for the weekend down on Front Street, so, we made the two-hour drive. We had a steak dinner on the Cape Fear River, jogged past some lovely old buildings in the historic downtown, and tried to get my mind off this major life change I hadn’t asked for.
Seven years later, I was looking to invest in property and thought being able to visit the ocean when I needed a place to land would be a cool thing to look forward to. I spent the last year and eight months officially being a “nomad,” and landing mostly at one of my kids’ houses whenever I was between travel destinations. I’d visited many friends and family members on road trips with my dog, hiked in Mt. Ranier National Park with friends, spent a week in Canada on Lake Huron, visited Salt Lake City, slept in National Forests camping in my 4-Runner and working via a mifi portal while gazing upon a beautiful lake out the hatch.
Since I closed on the house I’ve spent 18 days sleeping there total. I already had plans to be up north or attend a wedding or a concert here or there. I have a new bed but no sofa. I watch movies on my laptop perched on top of two plastic totes. I am on my second landscaper - and I use that term loosely. No one’s “in the mood” to mow lawns in a beach town, I’ve been told. There’s been unfamiliar critters, one new neighbor “Miss P,” unexpected house repairs, and beautiful walks on a couple of sandy beaches.
The headline here may have been misleading: I don’t have the answers yet. I’m learning. This Sunday, after walking the dogs, doing some yoga and meditating, I ventured out to find a comfy cafe that I could write in. I ventured to The Brooklyn Arts District and stumbled upon the Brooklyn Cafe. I had a homemade chocolate donut made following the owner’s grandmother’s recipe, and a refreshing glass of iced green tea. The walls are plastered with mini Polaroids of dogs - yes, dogs are welcome INSIDE this particular cafe.
Yesterday, I checked out the Vintage Market on Castle Street and the day before that, a friend drove up from Myrtle Beach and we had the best lunch ever at On Thyme Restaurant. I’ve also sat in my camp chair in “my” living room wondering how I ended up here and WTF was I doing with a house again? Having sold the home I’d lived in for the last 27 years, and loving the feeling of being “untethered,” I somehow got re-tethered. More to say on that later. For now, I needed to know that I could find a replacement for the coffee shops I’d come to call home before.
So I think that’s the answer, one try at a time…that’s how you learn to “be,” in a new town. And also reminding yourself that a house is just a thing. Things don’t have to own you or define you. I have only the slightest sliver of a nesting urge..and it’s mainly so I can lay down on a sofa to nap if I feel like it. I’ve GOT to find a sofa. And I’ve only got another week before I’m off again, to Vegas for a wedding, to a lighthouse on an island in Maine for a writing retreat, and to Wisconsin to visit my daughter and soon-to-be son-in-law.
Will this ever feel like home? The last several years have taught me that I am my home…but cozy is still a vibe. I’m aiming for cozy.