Roving Gypsies
by:Rachel
Constant moving, roving about like wandering gypsies—that’s what I feel like we are. I knew gypsies were in my ancestral line, but I never expected them to have such strong ties to the way I have lived my life. The idea of the life of a gypsy is romantic to me in many ways: traveling from this place to that, new adventures, new things to see, carrying everything you own around with you, not having the restrictions of only taking a trip to a new place during those two short weeks off a year. Ah, yes. What a simple appealing thought.
John and Aria in Syracuse airport.
Reality breaks in on romanticism as I find myself once again uprooted. In the past two months or so since our wee family left Minnesota, we have been hopping from place to place, living out of our suitcases. We drove with pretty much all our belongings out east and spent over a month in Syracuse, New York as we prepared for John’s internship. In the beginning of February we took a plane to the country of India and spent the first two weeks in a guest room. It was a lovely room, but all of our luggage was open and spread here and there as I hadn’t anticipated not having our apartment yet and hadn’t packed in a way conducive to a two-week stay. So I found myself packing and unpacking yet again as we moved into our apartment yesterday. The weariness of it all was pounding down on me—such exhaustion. Then this morning, the thought of unpacking again was not appealing. I even entertained some thoughts of leaving most of the stuff packed since we’ll just be taking off again in eight months. Since John and I have married we’ve spent a few weeks on the road, four and a half months in San Francisco, seven months in Syracuse, seven months in Minnesota, another month and a half in Syracuse, and two weeks in India. Right now I’m feeling the weight of that along with the weariness of culture shock and I just wanted to buy a house and live in it for three years at least. Yet, I know there are things I would miss out on if I up and did that.
Aria and Rachel on the plane. She only had one really rough, 15 minute crying spell.
One of the things I think about the gypsy-type life-style that is so beautiful is that they are not isolated. Community’s an important part of their life. And there is minimal packing and unpacking as they are living out of an RV, camper, or van. But here I am, only partially living like a roaming gypsy and I’m missing out on some of the best parts of it. Yes, I get to see new places and have new adventures, but there is also the loneliness that comes with leaving all that is familiar and dear. There is the stress and weariness of packing and unpacking, having to acquire the bare necessities once again. To heck with this! I say let’s completely embrace that crazy wonderful gypsy way of life!