Incorrigibly a wanderer

I've now been "settled" in this Montanan berg for about a month and a half. I've held two jobs for nearly as long, one as a delivery driver for a bakery and one as a librarian. I like them both. I like my apartment, my nearby family, and my newfound friends. I like this town and its people. And I've even found a church I like.

So, all that said, why do I feel restless?

Why do I stop and watch the planes take off at the little airport near my house -- and wish I was on them?

Why do I dream of elsewhere when I really, truly do want to be HERE?

Is it just the nature of my life these last few years? The temporary jobs. The writing. The renting of rooms rather than houses. The travels. The awareness that absolutely nothing was holding me down.

Or is it just my nature? Am I hard-wired to wander? My Grampa had the will-o-the-wisp, and I often wonder if it was passed down genetically.

Anyway, it is not unusual for me to love where I am and wish I was somewhere else at the same time. It is just bothering me a bit more this time around. It feels more like a character flaw than a charming attribute. I mean, what if I was married? Would I blame my husband if I felt trapped?

I hope not.

If this wanderlust is not a character flaw, perhaps it is an indicator of something else that bothers me: loneliness. Singleness. I can wander because I have no one -- at least no one in the sense of lifelong love. Oftentimes I am grateful for that, and sometimes I wish I had a reason to stay somewhere.

Then again, it is perfectly acceptable in my current state to throw a spoonful of chocolate chips into a whip cream container and eat it for dessert while sitting on my living room floor and watching a chic flick. I hope I still do that if I ever do get hitched.

And I hope I still wander. I hope I always wander -- not out of discontent or escapist tendencies -- but out of a love for the world God created.

I am slowly realizing that God made me curious. And he gave my curiosity wings.

* I recently read "West With the Night" by Beryl Markham, an extraordinary woman pilot who made her living flying dangerous jobs in Africa. It may be my new favorite book; it is at least in the top five. Anyway, Markham was a wanderer, and she had a few things to say about the condition:

A life has to move or it stagnates. Even this life, I think. It is no good telling yourself that one day you will wish you had never made that change; it is no good anticipating regrets. Every tomorrow ought not to resemble every yesterday.

Why am I gazing at this campfire like a lost soul seeking a hope when all that I love is at my wingtips? Because I am curious. Because I am incorrigibly, now, a wanderer.

Ah, the joys of being a bachelorette...