100 years ago this wouldn’t have happened.  People had homes then.

I’ve recently come to realize, again, that I have no home.  When I was 18 I left for college like most of my generation (this is itself a seismic shift), and after I completed it, I moved elsewhere.  I grew up in Minnesota, and I still call it “home,” but in reality I haven’t been home in over 8 years.

I went to school in Boston.  I spent 7 years there, earning my two degrees from MIT, and then promptly set out for the complete opposite side of the country.  I moved to Los Angeles, somewhat on a whim, and managed to settle down (I’ve got a good job and a decent apartment, though I’m still trying to figure out how to live with my sister).  And my friends are no different.  Even friends who went to school in Minnesota left promptly after graduation, moving to major cities like Chicago, New York, and San Francisco.

I should stress that this is not unusual anymore.  The ability to communicate cheaply over long distances (indeed worldwide, and even beyond that) has deteriorated the sense of home, the sense of place.  And I don’t necessarily think that is a bad thing.  But my how life has changed since I was a kid.

I’m about to head “home” for the holidays, and reflecting on a year of decisions I’ve made, both good and bad, and places I’ve been, I can say that while I have no home I am often glad to be a citizen of the world.  The people I’ve met, far and wide, have shaped my life in some amazing ways.  And for that I am eternally grateful.

See you in the new year.